


Gomorrah by the Bay

by MelindaYoung



Category: Sliders (TV)
Genre: Biblical Allusions (Abrahamic Religions), Crimes & Criminals, F/M, Past Relationship(s), Season/Series 01, Sexual Content, Suicide, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1997-02-01
Updated: 1997-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:19:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 74,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22150165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelindaYoung/pseuds/MelindaYoung
Summary: As Wade and Quinn bicker over the aftermath of their brief romance in "Last Days," the Sliders find themselves in a dimension where the doomed cities of Sodom and Gomorrah straddle the Golden Gate...and the countdown to their destruction may have started. Rembrandt believes they have to take on the angels' task of rescuing Lot and his family, while Arturo, Quinn, and Wade face the moral dangers presented by the corrupt cities: dishonesty, violence, and sexual temptation.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the rights to the characters and scenarios from the Sliders television series. No financial benefit has been derived from the creation of this fan fiction, not even a free drink at a con. I am immensely grateful to the original owners, developers, and creative partners of the Sliders universe for their artistry and vision.  
> Dedicated to the gang that slaved away down at Borders 96  
> “Flee to the hills, lest you be consumed.” – Genesis 19:17
> 
> This story takes place shortly after “Last Days”
> 
> This story has not been authorized to be made available through third-party apps, especially fee-based apps. If you are reading this through an app, it has been copied illegally. Please report this copyright violation to the author on the Archive of Our Own website: archiveofourown.org/works/22150165
> 
> Original elements in this story Copyright (c) Melinda Young 2020

It ended with a bang, as always. Flying through the light, funneled and buffeted by energy and colors and movement and sound, then dropped out with a sudden rush of violence, they felt as if the vortex couldn’t wait another moment to be rid of them.

This landing was hard, and in the dark. The usual assortment of awkward crashes later, they stood and groaned and complained and dusted themselves off and looked around.

A nearly full moon overhead and the usual complement of stars provided the only light on this Earth. They’d left a neon-filled Palo Alto, and after their blinding, bumpy ride, this darkness was doubly jarring.

Rembrandt pulled the small, disposable camera from his jacket pocket and in the low light did his best to check it for damage.

Quinn asked, “How did it survive?”

“Better than the last one,” he said, then squinted in the darkness. “At least, I think so.”

Arturo sniffed, “I confess, I’m perplexed by your dedication to this project. This is the third camera you’ve carried along. Something always seems to go wrong, and yet you persist in this exercise.”

“Listen, Professor,” Rembrandt stated, “one of these days, we’re going to run out of other Earths, and when we get home, I want some proof of what we’ve been through. Otherwise, nobody’s going to believe us! I mean, would you believe me if I described some of these places to you?”

Arturo thought for a moment. “I stand corrected. Perhaps ‘perplexed’ is not the correct word. ‘Amazed’ at your dedication, and your optimism.”

“You gotta be optimistic, Professor. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

Arturo nodded lightly. “Clearly stated.” He looked at their surroundings, and his polite smile faded.

What little the moon showed them was forest and prairie, without a single building in sight. After the previous, paved-over and antiseptic world terrified of anything remotely natural, all this nature was refreshing. Disorienting, but refreshing.

“Well,” Professor Arturo said, stating the obvious for the record, “this San Francisco seems to be much less developed than what we’re used to.”

“Just so long as there aren’t any buffalo herds this time,” Wade said as she brushed dirt off the elbow of her jacket. She gave Quinn an annoyed look, but in the dark he didn’t notice.

Quinn took out the timer, which had survived the slide in good shape. “We have fifty-four hours here.” He looked around at the nothing around them. “Wherever here is.”

Wade asked, “Shall we find San Francisco or camp out here for two and a half days?”

In the distance, an eerie echo of a low wolf howl soon coaxed an entire chorus of howls from the darkness. Quinn regarded the others. “I was going to suggest some sleep before we decide, but now I think staying awake and keeping moving is a good idea.” The others nodded.

Wade looked up at the moon. “Four or five hours ‘til dawn, maybe. And north is that way.” She pointed into the darkness.

“That’s pretty good,” Quinn said, then added with a bit of an edge, “if you’re right.”

She turned on him, her hands on her hips. “I _do_ know a few things,” she said, the acid in her voice slicing through the dark.

Quinn rolled his eyes. “Wade—”

“What?” she fired back.

“Look, I know you’re mad at me—”

She coughed out a brittle laugh. “You know, people have always called you a genius, and I wasn’t sure up until now. But now I know you are!”

“Come on, Wade—”

“You had no right—”

“—I didn’t—”

“—To talk about me like that!”

“Wade! You’re blowing this up way out of proportion!”

“Oh, so not only am I stupid, I exaggerate, too!”

“I didn’t say you were stupid!”

“He did, and you agreed with him.”

The young man stammered in bewilderment. “I was just making conversation. What was I supposed to do? We needed him to let us out of that quarantine area so we could slide.”

“You could have defended me. I mean, the guy was a jerk. If he’d said something like that about Rembrandt or the Professor, you wouldn’t have chuckled along with him like ‘one of the boys.’ Would you?”

Quinn blew out a frustrated sigh. She was probably right, but that wasn’t the point. He said deliberately, “Wade, I’m sorry. I said something I shouldn’t have. It seemed appropriate at the time. But I was wrong.”

She frowned at him. “I wish you sounded like you meant it.” She turned away from them. “This way’s north.” She started walking. Quinn let out a low grumbling growl, then offered Rembrandt and Arturo a frustrated glance without comment. He followed her.

Rembrandt and Arturo regarded each other for a long moment, then Rembrandt said, “Aren’t you glad you’re not twenty-five anymore?”

Arturo could barely suppress his laugh. “Amen to that, Mr. Brown,” he said emphatically, “A-men!” They fell in step behind the others.

At first, the emptiness of the landscape was unsettling, especially after the frantic pace of the last Earth. But as the autumn dawn slowly filled the eastern sky and revealed the familiar Bay Area terrain, all four of the Sliders began to appreciate the near-pristine splendor. They walked silently through the countryside, reveling in the natural beauty around them.

Quinn and Wade’s argument wasn’t over, but they settled into an unspoken truce. Wade stewed as they walked. She had decided not to continue the argument for the moment. Typical, she thought to herself—not pursuing something with Quinn. Well, pursuing but not pursuing.

This was Round 22 of the same meaningless argument they’d been having for more than a week. Things still weren’t okay between them after their brief stumble into romance four slides earlier on the Earth facing destruction from the meteor. It had been so startling, so sudden...and yet it had felt so very right.

But it had ended as abruptly as it had begun. Without the threat of imminent death, they’d stepped back from it—or, more precisely, Quinn had stepped back and apparently thought it was something they’d left behind with that Earth. They’d never really discussed it. Safely away from certain annihilation, maybe he thought talking about it would have been awkward, anti-climactic. Besides, she wondered, what would he have said? “Well, Wade, since we were going to die anyway, why not?” No, he’d never say that. He might think that, but he wouldn’t dare say it. Maybe he was afraid. No, he didn’t act afraid—and he wasn’t a good enough actor to hide something like that for so long.

Had it really meant nothing to him? If only she had the courage to talk to him about it! But after all this time of waiting for him to explain himself, she’d become so angry over his apparent decision to pretend nothing had happened that she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to talk with him without exploding. She sighed. Explode like she’d done over the insult on the last Earth. She knew Quinn was right, he was just being chummy with the gatekeeper of that quarantine area so he’d let them out. It shouldn’t have been a big deal to her. But she was ready to pick a fight with him over anything these days. She blew out another sigh. She needed to do something.

Her second sigh produced a curious glance from Quinn. There he was, looking at her, his concerned eyes asking if she was okay. Could she say something? ...She shrugged and looked ahead. She could kick herself. Why couldn’t she just say something? She took in a deep breath for another sigh, but this time she caught it before the outflow and silenced it. The time for any sort of talk between them was later, not now. When, she wasn’t sure, but definitely not now.

The calls of the wolves had continued behind them for a while, then faded as the first glimpses of dawn appeared above the hills to the east. The morning light revealed what looked like distant farm buildings, so they knew they weren’t alone here. From so far away—the nearest farm was nearly two miles off—it was hard to tell if the technology was similar to home, but somehow it didn’t seem that advanced. The clarity of the blue sky indicated that either this was a society that had conquered its pollution problems—or it had no technology that could produce that familiar yellow-brown haze that usually crowned the San Francisco of home.

The morning light revealed two more disappointments. They saw no nearby clusters of trees or hedgerows where they could safely nap for a few hours. As tired as they were, they would have to keep going. The other problem was potentially more dangerous. Wade’s watch had not survived their landing. It looked intact, but it still indicated the time of their arrival and resisted all efforts to start again. She would have to rely on the others to be the timekeepers.

The four found a road, which headed north, and while it seemed large, it was quiet in the early morning. It also wasn’t paved. There were some wheel tracks, but they were too thin to be from any car or truck tire they knew. Mostly the tracks were human footprints and horse and cow tracks. There were also occasional animal droppings that indicated the road was well-used by non-motorized traffic. Each of the four could interpret the tracks for themselves, but no one wanted to comment. After so many slides, they knew speculation was generally useless and often brought up unreasonable expectations. So, they kept their observations to themselves.

Besides, there was also the worrisome possibility that the less like home this place was, the less likely they were to find English as the spoken language. Before the germophobic Earth, they’d slid into two Earths in a row where they could barely communicate with the residents. One San Francisco was a place where the people spoke a language none of them had ever heard before. There they spent a mercifully short seven hours staying by themselves and using awkward hand gestures to acquire food and restroom directions. The other San Francisco had been in essence “New Yokohama”—on that Earth the Japanese had chosen expansion instead of isolation during its feudal age and had colonized most of western North America. English was virtually unknown there. Eight days in New Yokohama had left them broke, hungry, sick of eating fish and noodles, agitated from their linguistic isolation, and a lot more knowledgeable about sumo than they’d ever wanted to be. Yet another linguistic challenge so soon on this unpromising Earth was an unappealing prospect.

Eventually, in the distance a mile or so ahead appeared what looked like a walled city. The ramparts were tall and stout and seemed almost medieval in proportion. Clusters of small, wooden shacks could be seen just outside the wall. There was no indication of any sort of advanced technology. Rembrandt frowned at the sight. “I got a bad feeling about this.”

Arturo said, “We have to be prepared for anything. This doesn’t look like a place where we can blend in. Perhaps only one of us should go inside the city to get food. How many more hours do we have here?” he asked, looking at Quinn.

“Another forty-three,” Quinn answered gloomily. He scanned the horizon. It was a beautiful, clear day, and he could see across San Francisco Bay to what back home would be Oakland, Berkeley and Richmond. The hills to the east were covered with savanna and patches of forest. Perhaps there was a village or two over there, but he couldn’t be sure from this distance. But, no matter how beautiful the vista might be, it was eerie. It was just too different from home. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, too.”

“All right,” Arturo said firmly, “that’s enough of that. I say one of us goes into the town and the others wait outside. Camping isn’t my favorite activity, but if we can obtain some food, I’m willing to put up with it to minimize contact with the people here.”

“No,” Wade said. “I don’t like the idea of splitting up. If the person who goes in gets into trouble, then we’d have to come in after him anyway. I say we stick together.” She looked at Quinn and Rembrandt, who nodded noncommittally. “We’ll just be careful.” She started walking towards the far-off city gate, and the others followed.

The closer they got to the city, the less they liked what they saw. They fell into a flow of traffic that was heading for the gate, but to call what they saw “rustic” would be a compliment. People wearing burnooses and other simple garments were carrying baskets on their heads or leading pack animals and occasional ox carts. There was nothing remotely like home about any of this. The four of them stood out like neon signs on a deserted street. And yet, they only received a few odd looks. People seemed curious about them, but not to the point of alarm. Mostly people stared at Rembrandt. Some looked concerned, but most of them simply looked mystified. After watching the fourth exchange of hushed conversation that was obviously about him, he rankled. “What’s the matter with these people? Haven’t they ever seen a man of color before?”

Wade looked at the people around them, who were all variations of Caucasian. “Maybe not. This place doesn’t look very cosmopolitan.”

Rembrandt ruffled his jacket and cleared his throat pointedly towards the people who happened to be staring at him at the moment. He muttered, “Well, feast your eyes, people. Get all your lookin’ in before I start charging admission.” The other three smiled, and the locals only continued their gazing.

As they continued on their way, Rembrandt slipped his camera from his pocket and surreptitiously snapped off a couple photos of the crowd. Maybe people back home would declare this a costume party, but he was still going to try to capture something.

The traffic was funneling towards the gate, and as they approached the ramshackle buildings set up by the wall, the din of street commerce met their ears. Each of them was quietly relieved to hear the startlingly incongruous but blessedly familiar sounds of American English. At least they’d be able to communicate.

The four slipped out of the traffic flow and stopped before a wooden structure that turned out to be a fruit and vegetable stand. It had been a very long walk and they were all hungry by now. While common sense dictated staying back and studying the proceedings for a few minutes to understand how things were done here, Arturo’s hunger got the better of him as he stood before the array of wares. The quality of the food looked mediocre, but it would do. Arturo gathered up a few apples and oranges, then handed them to Rembrandt before collecting some carrots and lettuce.

The vendor eyed Arturo sharply as he approached, his wallet in hand. Arturo offered his friendliest smile. “How much for all of this, my good man?”

The vendor scanned the group, then glanced at the fruit. “Two pims.” There was something in his tone that sounded as if he’d doubled the usual price for these out-of-towners.

Arturo’s smile faded as he regarded the U.S. currency in his wallet. “Yes, well, I’m not exactly sure of the exchange rate here. How about one of these?” He handed the man a five dollar bill.

The man frowned as he stared at the bill, rubbing it between his dirty fingers as if he didn’t know what paper was. “What’s this? I have no use for this.” He handed the currency back with disdain.

The unsettling realization came over all of them that they had nothing of use in this world with which to pay or barter, and they might very well not eat until the next slide. It was time for a little desperation. And cunning.

Arturo regarded the five dollar bill with the air of a pitchman. “Oh, come now. Can’t you see what magnificent craftsmanship went into this? This is a remarkable work of art. I daresay no one else in the entire city has anything at all like this. It’s well worth...ten pims.” The vendor touched the paper with a growing interest. “Five at the very least,” Arturo said confidently.

The vendor was obviously tempted by the sales pitch, but he wasn’t going to give in so easily. He shook his head and pushed the bill back. “No. I’m not interested. Give the food back.”

Arturo sighed, then offered a look of having been beaten. “All right, you win.” He put the five back into his wallet and produced a fresh, new one dollar bill. “But this is all you’re getting out of me. You drive a very hard bargain.”

The other three exchanged quiet glances as the vendor’s eyes grew large as he touched the crisp, new bill. He was enchanted, and he squinted hard at the portrait of Jimmy Carter. But he still wasn’t going to roll over, not quite yet. He looked at Arturo with an unenthusiastic shrug. “I’ve seen better. This is trash compared to Olmec work.”

“Perhaps,” Arturo said without skipping a beat, “but it is still very fine work. And it’s unique. It’s esthetically pleasing, and it’s unusual. Five pim at least.”

Arturo’s words were working. The man pursed his lips, then nodded. “All right. But only because I’m feeling generous today.” He gestured that they could keep the produce. “Be sure to remember Achmahn. I’m the only honest man out here. Come back and we’ll do business again.”

Arturo nodded congenially. “We are most grateful.” They walked away as Achmahn studied his new treasure.

When they were out of earshot, the others laughed. “You cheat!” Wade scolded him with a laugh.

“I would hardly call it cheating, Miss Welles,” he said pointedly as he wiped off one of the apples. “I would call it ‘guerrilla negotiating.’” The others laughed, and with gusto Arturo took a healthy bite out of the fruit.

They took their food to a small, abandoned vendor stand along a main artery of the marketplace. They passed around Professor Arturo’s Swiss Army knife to slice shares of the food and ate in the stall’s relative safety while watching the ebb and flow of humanity pass through the market. With particular interest, they watched a poultry vendor across from them. He haggled, he cajoled, and sometimes he even resorted to theatrical begging to lure passersby into the shade of his stall. When he saw one particular man coming down the lane, he even called out his curvaceous young daughter to stand out front to lure the wanted customer in. It was obvious to the four visitors that their own world’s best-selling authors of marketing books had nothing on this man. It was also obvious to them that, whenever he could get away with it, he was cheating customers. Smaller eggs were substituted for the larger ones on display, change was counted back incorrectly in the vendor’s favor, and once Quinn thought he saw the girl actually lift a coin purse off a browsing customer’s belt. The leather goods vendor in the next stall seemed to be engaging in the same kind of dishonesty. On other worlds, they might have spoken up, but here, in this very alien place, keeping out of the local affairs had an added urgency. As they watched another inattentive customer being cheated out of a few coins, all Rembrandt said was, “I see we’re not the only ones doing ‘guerrilla negotiating.’”

After the meal came the expected discussion. “Well,” Wade said with enthusiasm, “shall we go into the city and take a look around?”

The men exchanged doubtful glances. Quinn said slowly, “Well, Wade, this one may be a little too different. I think we kind of agreed this morning that minimal contact is best.”

She stood up. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” The edge of challenge in her voice indicated the early morning argument was far from forgotten.

Rembrandt offered with a sigh, “I think I accidentally left it behind three worlds ago.”

She conceded with a shrug. “Okay, look. As soon as it begins to get dark, we’ll leave. I want to at least take a look.” She was winning over no one. “I mean, this place is so amazing. It’s almost as if it’s out of the Bible or something. Just a quick look. An hour. Then we’ll come back, get enough food to last three days, and head for the hills.” She offered a hopeful smile. The reaction was at best muted. “Aren’t you at least curious?” The others looked around. “I mean, come on. This is really amazing.” She put her hands on her hips in a gesture they all knew too well. “If we don’t go, you’re going to regret it later. I know it.” She headed out of the stall. “Okay, I’ll meet you back here in an hour.”

As one person, the three men launched out of their resting spots and joined her. “You’re not going in there by yourself,” Rembrandt scolded.

She nodded, her smile a little too obvious as she joined the flow of people heading for the city gate. “Okay.”

The throng crowded in as they approached the gate, and instinctively all four Sliders shifted their wallets to guarded pockets. Rembrandt took a surreptitious photo of the looming gate ahead, and none of the locals seemed to notice or care.

The crowd carried them along now with its momentum, and, as they were funneled through the huge opening in the well-fortified wall, they could only watch the large, armor-clad soldiers armed with long spears watch them back. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all, Wade thought in passing, but it was too late now.

Inside the gates were large adobe houses—mansions by local standards, probably—with men in rich robes standing before stout gates, chatting and conducting business. Further on were less splendid buildings jammed together, many with balconies overlooking the streets and colorful banners draped above the thoroughfare.

Everywhere were people. There were more street vendors in doorways, their goods spread out on blankets, and there were jugglers, musicians, acrobats, a magician or two, and a flurry of women selling other forms of amusement. This town was full of life and nearly bursting at the seams with its own energy. Even without the technology of their Earth’s 20th century, it was electric. “Wow,” was all Wade could say. Rembrandt snapped a photo of the street scene.

They passed down the main avenue, marveling at everything they saw. Arturo pointed at a banner with strange markings above what looked like a shop. “I’d hazard a guess that that’s their form of writing.” He pointed to a large plaque by the door that contained an abstract drawing—a pictograph of sorts—of what looked like a large pot. An intoxicating aroma of slow-cooked food wafted out through the door, indicating the place was a restaurant. “I wonder how many people know how to read?” A glance around revealed most of the buildings had the pictographs more prominently displayed than the writing.

“Probably not many. But maybe there’s a big tourist trade, too,” Rembrandt said as he watched a group of what looked like Aztec Indians pass by in striking, colorful costumes. Rembrandt took another photo.

“They must be Olmecs,” Arturo said. “The vendor mentioned Olmec work.”

“Olmec?” Wade asked.

“They were predecessors of the Maya.” The professor watched the haughty Indians pass and peruse the gaudy pleasures of the town around them. Nobility, perhaps, or very rich merchants. Definitely tourists. “This is absolutely astonishing,” Arturo said. “We’re in a world that is historically and culturally at least 2,000 years behind our Earth. More like 4,000. Maybe more. Amazing.”

They gazed at the tourists from another millennium, and Wade made a quick mental snapshot of the Indians and their attire; she would be sure to note them in her journal that night. As much as she appreciated Remmy’s enthusiasm for his camera, her journal had stayed safe for all their slides so far, and she had more faith in her notes than in his technology.

The Olmec group moved down the street in the flow heading further into the city, and the Sliders fell in with the flow behind them. As he examined the strange town, Arturo frowned. “Is it just my impression, or are there very few children here?”

The others looked at the humanity around them. The youngest people they could see were in their teens. Quinn answered, “You’re right, Professor. I remember a few outside the gates, but I don’t remember seeing any inside.”

“That seems odd, doesn’t it?” Arturo said. “In the ancient world, children were everywhere, and usually in great numbers because of the high mortality rates.”

Wade offered, “Maybe it’s a school day. Or they’re not allowed on the streets during the day.”

“Perhaps,” Arturo replied, but he wasn’t convinced.

As they walked, they passed by more grand buildings of commerce, although the four were soon aware that the commerce being offered inside was not what they were used to seeing advertised so blatantly. At the front of one two-story, wood-framed establishment, women in various stages of undress gathered to advertise their wares. If their enticements weren’t obvious enough, the pictograph by the door made it more than clear what a customer could expect inside. Next to this establishment stood another of its kind. Across the street was yet another, but out front young men were calling to potential patrons in the street. The pictograph on the building’s front indicated that this was a place for men seeking young men for hire. More buildings of all possible varieties of similar commerce were scattered along the street. Some were fairly well-to-do, some were little more than hovels. Rembrandt said quietly, “I guess this must be the red light district, huh?”

“Kinda looks that way, doesn’t it?” Quinn said in a low voice, then in a quiet gesture stepped up next to Wade so she was between him and Arturo. There was no need to expose themselves to unnecessary risks—or anyone from the town to unnecessary temptations.

“This is incredible,” Wade said, awestruck. “This really is like out of the Bible.”

A woman of a hardened and worn beauty stepped out from the doorway of one of the establishments and approached the group. She stood before Rembrandt, forcing them to stop. She marveled openly. “Are you entirely this color?”

He shrugged, casually showing her his palms. “Pretty much.”

“Pretty, indeed!” she said with a laugh. She touched the back of his hand. He instinctively pulled away from her, but she seemed to take no notice and touched his hair as well. “Was this some accident? A burn? A curse?”

“No,” he said with a subdued tone that didn’t escape his friends, “I was just born this way.”

“It must have terrified your mother!”

“No, she looked like this, too.”

The woman’s mouth fell open with surprise. “By Asherah, you say!” She glanced back at her comrades who were watching from the doorway. She took Rembrandt’s arm. “Come with me. No charge.”

Wade almost choked as Quinn and Arturo blinked with surprise.

Rembrandt slipped his arm from her grasp and said quietly, “No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but no.”

“All right,” the woman said, glancing at the other Sliders. “Them free, too.”

Wade spat out a scoffing sound.

The woman looked at her matter-of-factly. “A man or woman, whatever your choice.”

Wade was about to say something very unkind when Quinn put one hand on her shoulder and the other over her mouth. “Thank you,” Quinn said, “but we’re okay.”

The woman frowned. “You’re what?”

Arturo said to the woman solicitously, “We’re grateful, but we won’t be taking you up on your very kind offer.” In a fluid gesture, he directed her towards her place of business.

She looked back at Rembrandt, disappointed. “Are you certain?”

Rembrandt nodded. “Positive. But thank you.”

She shook her head, then took a few steps back to the building. “If you ever change your mind....”

“You’ll be the first to know,” he said, then started down the road again.

She frowned, seemingly unfamiliar with that turn of phrase, but the others didn’t stay to explain it.

Quinn shook his head as the others recovered from what had just happened. “What is it about you, Remmy? Now women are stopping you on the street.”

“I don’t know, man. I used to enjoy that kind of thing. But somehow ‘no charge’ took the shine off this one.” Quinn and Arturo chuckled, and Wade simply shook her head with more than a touch of annoyance directed towards her male companions. They continued down the street.

A house of considerable wealth appeared ahead of them on the left, and, as they approached, they could see decorations in the stucco walls and a number of refinements that indicated this was a place for a high class clientele. There was even a magnificent front porch where the establishment’s staff could advertise themselves discreetly or simply watch the world go by. It was far and away the classiest joint in the neighborhood—for what that was worth. The brightly colored sign with its cryptic writing meant nothing to them, but the pictograms seemed to indicate this was a full service house of pleasure, with entertainment of any persuasion for men and women alike. Half a dozen attractive young women were on the porch, watching the passersby with enervated interest, and there were two young men there as well. One leaned against a pillar on the porch, while the other sat on a wooden chair tilted back comfortably, his foot resting against the handrail for the front steps. No doubt it was the slow time of the day for them. They were all the perfect picture of bored disinterest.

As the four walked past, however, there was something about the young man leaning back on the chair that caught Wade’s interest. Tall, dark-haired, a full, dark beard, a fine cotton tunic down to his knees, a small, brimless cap resting on the back of his head. Why couldn’t she take her eyes off him? When she realized why, she gasped with a shudder. “Guys,” she whispered intensely. “Guys!” The others looked at her, then followed her gaze. They slowed their pace as they saw what she saw.

The young man on the porch had noticed them watching him, and, after he scanned their faces, his mouth opened with astonishment. He stared back at them as they moved past him on the street below. He set the front legs of his chair down on the porch floor and stood, gazing down at them in amazement. The others looked at Quinn, who was returning the young man’s open-mouthed stare. The man on the brothel’s front porch was Quinn’s double.

They kept walking and were soon out of sight of the porch. Quinn looked rather shaken, and Wade put a consoling hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” he said, not sounding entirely convincing. “I’ve seen some pretty bad reflections of myself, but I never expected that.”

“Perhaps he’s in charge of the house’s security,” Arturo suggested, not believing it for a moment.

“Yeah,” Rembrandt seconded, “the bouncer. He was right by the front entrance and all.”

Quinn eyed them ruefully. “Thanks, guys. But it’s no big deal. I’ll live.”

Despite his protests, Quinn looked in need of a good distraction. After a quick check of his watch to see that they had another half hour left for their sojourn, Arturo led the way down the thoroughfare.

Ahead they heard a growing commotion, and the people in the street seemed to be gravitating towards something. They followed the crowd.

They walked two blocks towards the excitement. They came to an open area, a public square with a dais in the middle. An eager and anticipatory crowd was gathered around, pushing in to get a better view. Staying far back from the throng, the four could see several men up on the dais. One seemed to be officiating, a master of ceremonies of sorts, while several others stood in the background. One in the middle was being held by large men on either side. It was hard to hear over the excited push of the crowd, but as the scene unfolded, it took on the feel of a public execution. The man who was being held, who looked young and terrified, was brought to the front of the dais, to the cheers and catcalls from the crowd, and then a large man dressed in leather armor stepped up from the back of the dais. It was hard to see through the crowd, but they could make out the young man whimpering as his guards forced him to his knees and held out his right arm on a wooden block. The man in the leather armor raised a large hatchet, then brought it down sharply. The young man’s wail was drowned out by the surging commotion from the crowd, and then the man in the leather armor reached down and picked up something, handing it to the master of ceremonies. He held the object aloft, to the cheers of the crowd—it was a bloody hand.

Wade spun away with a gasp, her hand over her mouth as a wave of nausea hit. Arturo offered her a comforting arm around her shoulder. The crowd was too tightly packed to pass through and escape the grim scene, so they were stuck as unwilling witnesses. With flinching gazes, Quinn and Rembrandt watched as the public spectacle continued and the sobbing young man was ceremoniously slapped with his own dismembered hand, blood splattering across his face. The crowd’s excitement overflowed as the man in leather armor reached for the young man’s other hand. Rembrandt shuddered and frowned at the people around him. “Man, this is sick. These people are really getting off on this.” He looked at Wade, who was quite pale. She trembled as another piercing scream came from the dais, and she looked as if she might vomit any moment. “Let’s get you out of here, girl.” He turned to push through the crowd, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what was taking place right behind them—a woman was performing oral sex on a man as several more were lined up to take their turn, while those around them alternately watched them and the cruel spectacle on the dais. Rembrandt quickly directed his friends the other way.

The four forced their way through the crush to the edge of the public square. They huddled in stunned silence as Wade fought her nausea. There was no place for her to sit, but the others fanned her and got her into the shade, and eventually she nodded that she was going to be all right. Arturo said sharply, “In God’s name, what kind of town is this?”

Rembrandt looked around, then his eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God! I know where we are!”

“The San Francisco from Hell,” Quinn muttered.

Rembrandt wasn’t listening as he turned towards a man at the edge of the crowd who was watching the progress on the dais. “Excuse me, sir, I have a question.”

The man obviously didn’t care for the interruption, and he glanced with annoyance to his friend beside him before scowling at Rembrandt. “What is it?”

“Have you ever heard of a man named Jesus?”

The man glanced at his friend, who shook his head. “No.”

“How about Moses?”

The man frowned at Rembrandt. “Should I have? Do they owe you money or something?”

“I’m just checking on something. ...How about Abraham?”

The man thought for a moment, but his friend’s face lit up with recognition. “Oh, him, that rich fellow.”

The first man looked at his friend. “What rich fellow?”

“The one who lives south of here who defeated Chedorlaómer and got all those hostages back from him and—”

“Oh, yeah, him, him, the shepherd, What’s-his-name’s uncle. But his name is Abram.”

The friend shook his head. “He just changed it.”

The first man looked at Rembrandt. “Yeah, we’ve heard of him. Why?”

Rembrandt didn’t answer, just turned away, his face ashen. The men shrugged and went back to their entertainment.

Wade put a hand on Rembrandt’s arm. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

“I know this isn’t going to make any sense, but, really, I know what this place is on this world. ...This is Sodom and Gomorrah.”

The others reacted mutedly. Despite what they’d seen on their travels, this was too outrageous a suggestion to accept easily. “Mr. Brown,” Arturo said pointedly, “you don’t honestly expect us to believe that we are standing in the counterpart of two entirely fictitious towns from the Old Testament that should be roughly 7,000 miles away.”

“I know it sounds crazy,” Rembrandt insisted, “but I know it’s true. I mean, look around. Wall to wall whorehouses, people cheating each other left and right.” He gestured across to the crowd they had just left. “People are having sex in public, for cryin’ out loud.” He looked at them for some agreement, but none came back. “Come on, we’ve seen so many crazy things on our slides, why should this surprise you?”

Wade offered, “Maybe because Sodom and Gomorrah didn’t really exist?”

Rembrandt countered, “Before we left home, scientists were finding evidence of two totally destroyed cities near the Dead Sea. Right where Sodom and Gomorrah would have been.”

No one was particularly moved by Rembrandt’s argument. Arturo’s gaze bordered on patronizing. “I think we should settle this before we get all sorts of silly ideas.” He led the way to a tavern facing the square, where a man who looked like the owner was sweeping off the front step as he kept a watchful eye on the afternoon’s entertainment in the square. “Good afternoon,” Arturo said in a jocular voice. The man nodded. “We’re strangers here, and we’re unfamiliar with a few of your local customs.” He gestured over his shoulder towards the dais behind him as something happened that elicited another eager reaction from the crowd. “First of all, may I ask what that is all about?”

The man stopped his sweeping and leaned on the broom handle. “A slave struck his master.” Arturo nodded as the man watched some new development on the dais. He shook his head with disdain. “Slaves never die well. But the crowd likes to see it, so they make it a big show.”

“Yes,” Arturo said neutrally, “I can see that. And—this is a little embarrassing, you understand—we’re a bit lost...and my friend here has suggested that we might be...in the town of Sodom.”

The tavernkeeper’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned in confidentially. “That must have been some binge you went on last night!” Arturo chuckled with him. “That hellhole Sodom is across the Pillars of Baal. This is the city of Gomorrah,” he said with a flush of civic pride.

The Sliders shuddered, and after Arturo managed to thank the man, they walked away. What a minute earlier had been an interesting expedition into a strange town had suddenly turned into a nightmare. Every stranger was suspicious; every angle held danger. They stayed tight together, trying to remember the way out. Arturo attempted the calm approach. “Let’s simply go back to that vendor, buy some food for a few days, and then stay out in the countryside as far away as possible. Then we’ll slide and be none the worse for wear.”

“I like that idea a whole lot, Professor,” Rembrandt said urgently, ready to lead the way.

Suddenly there was a groan from the crowd in the square behind them, then a roar of anger. There were shouts and cries, then a loud commotion. People began to run past the four, and then soldiers appeared and a rough warning gong began to clang. Everyone around them fled inside the nearby buildings. The four looked around in confusion, not knowing where to go.

A young woman across the street, who was standing in the doorway of what looked like a well-to-do shop, was watching them with interest. Finally, she shouted to them: “Over here! Come here!” She gestured for them to come to her, and, not knowing what else to do, they answered her bidding. She led them inside and closed the door behind them and secured it with a large wooden bar. The shop was what might in the future be called a general store, as it had shelves of tools, grains, and fine linens. She looked out the open-air window at the riot in progress out in the street. “I could tell you were new in town. You didn’t know what the alarm meant.” She looked at them. “The execution went badly. Riot, so curfew. Anyone caught on the street goes to prison.” She smiled slightly. “And you don’t look like the type who belong in prison.”

She was perhaps in her early twenties, brown hair, dark eyes, a knowing upturn at the edge of her smile. She eyed them inquisitively, her eyes lingering on Rembrandt, then Quinn. “My name is Diehdan. I’m the daughter of Ahmeck, who owns this place.” She glanced at their strange clothes. “I can tell you’re from very far away. I’ve never seen clothing like that.” She examined Rembrandt. “Or anyone like you.”

There was an intensity to her gaze that took Rembrandt’s easy reply away, so Quinn offered, “Thanks for rescuing us. My name is Quinn, and this is...Arturo, and this is Rembrandt, and this is Wade.”

She frowned at their odd names. She regarded Wade with particular amusement. “Wade. Isn’t that what people do into streams?” She laughed at her own joke, but all she got from Wade was an arched eyebrow.

Quinn saw this needed to go in a different direction fast. “How long will curfew last?”

“Dawn,” she said as she put her hand casually on the counter, then looked up at Quinn with more than a casual air. “So, you’ll have to stay the night.”

The edge in Diehdan’s voice and the intensity of her look at Quinn wasn’t lost on Wade. “I’m sorry,” she said, breaking the young woman’s gaze, “I’m afraid we don’t have any local money to pay for a room. All we have is some food to trade.”

Diehdan looked at Wade with a dull-edged glint, then said with a small smile, “Keep your food. I’m sure you have something to barter with.” The last flick of her glance at Quinn made her intentions more than clear.

The others looked at Quinn as he stammered, “Well, ah, we’re all pretty good at cleaning up and...like that.”

“Good,” she said, apparently backing off. “We have a storage room in back. It’s not much, but you’ll be safe from the soldiers.” She looked around the room with a sigh. “The clerks must have gone to watch the execution. May Baal blast them. They won’t be back until the morning. So, I could use some help with the shop. You look strong enough.” She glanced at Wade. “Most of you, anyway.” Wade rankled as Diehdan led the way to the area behind the counter. She indicated the bolts of colorful cotton on the high shelf. “Pull all those down....”

Six hours of hard labor later, the four crawled gratefully into the back room, which was filled with sacks of grains and flour. Diehdan had worked them hard—harder than they’d intended to volunteer for their keep—but they heard several street fights just outside the door that indicated the curfew wasn’t going well, and they were grateful for the refuge. Diehdan showed an unexpected gratitude by providing them with bread, fruit, and wine for dinner. She’d departed up to the private quarters for the evening with a casual, “Sleep well, I’m sure everything will be fine in the morning.”

The four settled onto the sturdy flour sacks that would have to serve as their beds and, after some quiet groaning and sighing, they tore into their meal. Rembrandt said, “We have to get out of here as soon as we can tomorrow.” No one offered disagreement. “And we have to be very careful. I know some of you think the name thing is just a coincidence.” Arturo cleared his throat at that. “But I’m telling you, this is exactly like Sodom and Gomorrah on our Earth. And we know what happened to them.”

“Allegedly,” Arturo clarified.

“So, bear with me on this one, guys. I know what we’re up against. Mrs. Taylor spent a lot of time in Sunday School talking about these places. And she didn’t even know the half of it.” Rembrandt shook his head as if to clear away some of what they’d seen today. “All the things we consider the basic rules of society have been thrown out the window. We have to be careful not to get caught up in how they live here. Mostly there are three things we have to worry about,” he said, counting them off on his fingers: “cheating, violence, and sex. It’s everywhere, and it’s real easy to get sucked into it.”

Quinn squinted at him. “You learned all that in Sunday School?”

Rembrandt shook his head with a shudder. “You didn’t know Mrs. Taylor.”

Wade couldn’t resist and offered an impish glance at Arturo as she took a bite out of her bread. “Well, the cheating we’ve already dabbled in.”

He glowered at her. “My dear Miss Welles, as I have previously stated, here our currency has only artistic value. A five dollar bill has no more value than a one to anyone in this town. It’s like the difference between two twigs. There was no cheating involved.”

“Okay, okay, Professor,” Quinn said. “No one’s blaming you.”

Arturo accepted his statement as an apology. “But Mr. Brown has an excellent point. It’s been well documented that lawless behavior has a certain contagious quality. If everyone around you is being bad, it’s easy to let go of your moral compass and be bad right along with them. We must be careful not to put ourselves in danger here, and we must also protect ourselves from forgetting who and what we are lest we become as bad as the rest of them.”

“That’s right,” Rembrandt said. “And we need to keep in mind that when Abraham tried to keep God from destroying Sodom and Gomorrah, God said if He could find ten honest people in them, He wouldn’t destroy them—but He couldn’t. We can’t trust anyone here, except each other.”

Silence followed his statement as they contemplated it, then Wade said quietly, “You don’t suppose...this place is going to be...you know, fired and brimstoned like the other ones were? Allegedly.”

Rembrandt glanced at the outside wall, which had only a high, ventilating window near the ceiling. “I’d say this plum is ripe for the picking.”

No one liked the sound of that. But Arturo said firmly, “Well, that’s neither here nor there for us, as we’ll be gone tomorrow morning and safely encamped elsewhere for the duration of our stay.”

Reassured by their plans, they settled down for the night on their unforgiving bedding. There was no option for privacy, so they simply decided to sleep side by side. Rembrandt took the place nearest the door, then Arturo, then Quinn, and furthest from the door was Wade. She made a few annoyed comments about not needing that extra layer of protection, but she didn’t protest too loudly, and no one listened anyway. When they were all settled, Rembrandt blew out the candle, and the room was plunged into darkness.

It was still early yet by their standards, and no one was especially ready for sleep. Particularly in this foreign and uncomfortable environment, sleep would be hard to come by. They lay in the darkness, no one speaking, each listening to every strange sound or noticing every strange touch and smell. Eventually their eyes adjusted to the dark, and they could see some of the room in the moonlight reflecting in through the high window.

No one was yet asleep when they heard the rush of footfalls outside, then heard more footfalls and felt the slam of a body against the outside wall. A man offered a plaintive “Please, don’t!”, and it was followed by dangerous laughter.

“Beg all you want, slave, it makes no matter to me,” another man said, and then the sound of a struggle ensued.

In a flash, Quinn was sitting up, his head turned to catch every sound. He winced when he heard a sharp cry of pain and several grunts. There were several more futile struggle sounds, but it was obviously three or four against one and the one had no chance. The sounds of grunts and coos, punctuated by cries of fear and pain, made it quite clear that the attack was a sexual one.

Quinn was on his feet and heading for the storage room’s door when Rembrandt stopped him with a forceful arm to the chest. “Don’t do it, Q-Ball.”

Quinn slapped his arm away. “Rembrandt, I have to! I can’t just—”

The arm was back and wouldn’t be pushed away this time. “Oh, yes you can. You have to. What you gonna do if you get out there? Huh? There’s a whole bunch of them and only one of you. All you’ll end up doing is being the one they’re taking turns with. You want that?”

Quinn had never felt so helpless in his life. “But—”

“But nothing. You can’t help him, Quinn. I know how much you want to. But there is nothing you can do except make things real bad for yourself. If ever there was a place not to get involved, this is it.”

Quinn glared at him for a few more moments, but as much as he hated to admit it, Rembrandt was right. He turned away angrily, kicking the foot of the flour sack in frustration and dropping down onto his sleeping spot. He fumed, fighting not to hear what was going on outside.

Arturo said gently, “No one’s blaming you, Quinn. There is nothing you can do.”

Quinn muttered, “I could try.” But he knew there was nothing he could do. Except lie down, close his eyes as tight as he could, and try to block out the sounds of the attack he couldn’t stop.

After what seemed an eternity, the assault was over and the men dragged their victim away to an unknown fate. In the sudden silence, for the first time Quinn could hear the sound of quiet weeping next to him. “Wade?”

She was turned away from him. “I’m okay,” came her distant, sniffly reply. “I just want to get out of here as soon as we can.” He put a hand on her shoulder. She patted his hand briefly but made no effort to roll over to face him. “I’m okay,” she said again, as unconvincingly as she had said it the first time. “...I’m sorry. I’m really sorry I made all of you come into town. This is my fault.”

Quinn gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “It’s okay. You didn’t know. How could you?”

Her response was silence.

Quinn tried another gentle squeeze of her shoulder, then, when she didn’t respond, he gave up. He stretched out in the confining darkness and rubbed his face. What a nightmare. And he couldn’t wake up out of it. He looked at his watch. At least nine more hours until dawn. He sighed.


	2. Chapter 2

Rembrandt found himself standing on the top of a rolling hill, facing east. The sun was about to rise, and a bright halo of yellow gold in the sky heralded the arrival of a beautiful morning. He thought he recognized this place; he could tell it was definitely the California countryside, but, with no town or familiar landmark, he didn’t know where exactly. He studied the predawn vista to get his bearings.

Standing next to him, dressed in a simple, full-length white dress, was a beautiful woman with the blackest skin he’d ever seen and bright, amber eyes. She smiled at him with recognition.

He eyed her warily. “Who are you?”

“I’m here to answer some questions for you. Important ones.”

He looked around. San Francisco Bay was behind her, and he could see the bridgeless Golden Gate almost due west of them, the full moon setting as the sky brightened. This would be Oakland perhaps, maybe Berkeley. “What kind of questions?”

“You’ve always wondered ‘why you?’ Why you came along on this journey. You never seemed to belong. But you always did. This is the reason you came. Without you, your friends will die here. You’re the only one who can save them.”

He blinked at her. He understood now that this was a dream, but he could feel that somehow it was more. “How?”

“By telling them the truth. Everything you’ve said is correct. This is Sodom and Gomorrah, and these people will pay for their iniquities just as their counterparts did on your world. You’re the only one who understands the gravity of your situation. You know what you have to do. Find Lot and his family, and get them out of Sodom. Just as you said, it’s important that you have as little contact with these people as possible. Stay separate. Don’t mingle. Their fates are already sealed. There’s nothing you or the others can do to help them. Save yourselves, and save Lot and his family.”

“How much time do we have?”

“Two days.”

He thought for a moment, then frowned. “We slide in just about two days. What time is it going to happen?”

“You need to be as far away as possible from Sodom and Gomorrah by that dawn.” Her mahogany eyes sparkled as she smiled. “And you know the drill—don’t watch as it happens.”

His eyes instinctively looked across the bay at the two towns on either side of the Golden Gate. He glanced away when he realized what he’d done. She laughed lightly. “It’s all right to look now!”

“Man, that’s going to be hard not to watch.”

“You can do it. You know what’s at stake.” He nodded dutifully, and then she paused as she seemed to be thinking...or maybe listening. She smiled at him. “You’re a lucky man, Rembrandt. You’re going to see what no other human has ever seen and lived.” She turned and looked across the bay as he wondered what she was talking about. His eyes followed her gaze.

At first, he thought it was a trick of the golden rays of the dawn’s light. He thought he saw a ripple pass through the buildings of Gomorrah. It looked like the shadow of a passing cloud, but then he realized the sun wasn’t high enough yet and the peninsula was still entirely in shadow. He blinked and looked at the scene again. There was the ripple again, only this time he knew it wasn’t something fooling his eyes. Even from this distance, he could see buildings being shrugged up, then dropped down on the slant as the ripple passed north through Gomorrah, across the Golden Gate, then across the length of Sodom. Fires broke out in dozens of places at once, and the conflagration grew as the toppled wooden buildings yielded to the flames. Explosions sent fireballs up into the morning sky. But all was silent from their vantage point, adding a further dimension of unreality to the terrible sight. The ground shook under his feet, and he took the woman’s hand to steady himself. When the noise from across the water finally hit, it was a distant, muffled groan of the Earth buckling under unbearable pressure, followed by the faintest whisper of thunder.

Rembrandt shuddered. He could see the ripple heading for them, moving dark and fast across the waters. He steadied himself, then watched in wonder as the ripple divided into several waves as it headed for the shoreline far below him. His mouth fell open. It was a tidal wave. He saw the water pull away from the shore, like a fighter rearing back to deliver a final blow, then stared as the first undulations slammed into the shore. Surge after surge traveled up the hill, twenty, thirty, forty feet above the water line.

He looked up at the cities again. Where they had been was now a pyre several miles long. He glanced to the fringes of each town, but he could see no buildings standing, no pockets left untouched. Nothing had been spared.

He looked at the woman, whose implacable gaze rested on the conflagration. “There’s nothing we can do to stop this?”

She looked at him, the calm in her eyes unaffected by the devastation before them. “No.” A smile touched her lips. “But it was nice of you to ask.” She returned her attention to the destruction.

He looked at her. He could feel his time was short. “...Are we ever going to get home?”

She turned to him, the same peace on her face that made part of him ache. “You have to ask yourself where home is.”

He blinked at her. He didn’t understand the comment. “Home. Where we came from. The place where I was born.”

Her gaze was steady, and as his urgency grew, her calm was all the more frustrating. “Where did you come from, Rembrandt? Where did you really come from? And where have you really been?”

He frowned. “I don’t want word games. If you know, tell me.”

“No games. You’ll understand someday.”

Rembrandt could feel the pull of waking easing him away from her, but he fought it as long as he could. “Please, I have to know. Are we gonna get home?”

The last thing he saw was her saying something followed by a smile, but he couldn’t hear the words she spoke.

He awoke in the darkness, her smile lingering before him. He blinked a few times, and it was gone. He looked around the dark room, at the others sleeping beside him. He rubbed his face, then stretched out again. There would be no going to sleep again, not after that.

Dawn came clear and cool. No one had slept well, but even in their bad-sleep creakiness, they were eager to be on their way as soon as possible. As they prepared to perform their morning ablutions, Rembrandt said with some hesitation, “Uh, new plan, guys.”

Quinn frowned. “What do you mean?”

“We don’t just leave and head for the hills. ...We have to find Lot and his family in Sodom and get them out of here before the whole place goes up.”

The others looked at each other, no one wishing to respond first. Finally Wade volunteered. “Um, why?”

“‘Cuz that’s why we’re here.”

The others exchanged more meaningful glances.

“No,” Rembrandt said, “I know what you’re thinking. But I’m right about this. ...I had this dream that wasn’t a dream. You know, like in the Bible. I’m telling you, this is this Earth’s Biblical times. And it’s up to us to get Lot and his family out of here before this place gets turned into a crispy critter.”

Arturo said diplomatically, “Mr. Brown, isn’t it rather presumptuous of us to do the work of the angels?”

“Not if that’s what we’re supposed to do.” He looked at them. They were unconvinced but not willing to admit it. “Okay. Fine. You three go head for the hills if you want to and I’ll go alone. I’ll meet up with you when I get them out.”

“How much time do we have before...?” Quinn asked, looking around with a vague “poof” gesture.

“Dawn in two days.”

“That’s right when we slide,” Arturo said.

Rembrandt nodded. “Yeah. So, I have to get a move on if I’m going to do all that and then come back and find you.” His resolve was apparent. But no one was willing to give in quite yet. “Look, I know this sounds nuts, but I know this slide is the reason I came along on this roller coaster ride. I’m here because I know what this place is, I know what the dangers are, and I know what we have to do. Without me, you three would have stayed around, and in two days y’all would be toast.” His words were finally reaching his own ears, and he couldn’t suppress a small smile at how strange he sounded. “That’s why I’m here, people. To save your sorry, pasty-white hides.”

That finally got through to them, and they chuckled. Wade offered a playful, pouting, “They’re not so sorry....”

There was no way they were going to let him go off on such a dangerous quest alone. Arturo looked at Quinn and Wade. “Well then, let’s get some breakfast and then see if we can find a man named Lot over in Sodom.”

When they emerged from the storage room, they found Diehdan out in the store, looking cheerful and refreshed. She eyed them as they stretched and groaned from their night of confinement. “Sorry I couldn’t offer you more comfortable beds for the night. We only have so many to go around.”

Quinn shook his head. “It wasn’t the bed. I don’t know how anyone could have slept through that last night.”

“Slept through what?”

They frowned at her. “The attack,” Quinn said.

Arturo added, “Surely it was directly under your sleeping quarters.”

She shrugged. “Oh. I’m a heavy sleeper. There was some violence? I’m sorry it disturbed you.” She didn’t seem all that sorry, which was all the more disturbing.

“Yeah,” Quinn said, “a slave was...attacked by some men.”

“Oh, well, slave. Any slave caught outside alone after dark is fair game. What did they do to him?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Quinn said, his frown growing at her cool lack of concern. “Ah, Diehdan, thank you for your hospitality, but we’ll be—”

“We’re out of food, I’m afraid,” she said sweetly. “I can’t send you on your way without food. It wouldn’t be proper.”

“No,” Quinn said, “that’s not necessary. We—”

“I insist,” she said firmly. “If anyone found out I’d let you leave empty-handed, it would disgrace the household.” There would be no arguing with her about this. She picked up a rough sack and handed it to Wade. “I’m sorry, my house servant was away when curfew was enforced, so I’ll need your help to go to market. Please forgive my rudeness to a guest.” She smiled sweetly.

It was obvious to Wade that there would be no getting out of this, either. She looked at her friends. “I’m sure this won’t take long,” she said without enthusiasm.

“We’d be happy to help,” Rembrandt said, a weird feeling in his stomach driving his words.

She scoffed. “Men? At the market?” She laughed. “What strange customs you have.”

Quinn suddenly picked up Rembrandt’s very bad feeling about this. “Wade, I don’t think you should go.”

She turned to him slowly, an arch look growing. “I’ll be fine.”

“No, really, I don’t think you should go.”

Her hands were on her hips as she squinted at him with annoyance. “Quinn, I really don’t like it when you tell me what to do. I mean, it’s not like you have any _right_.” The last word slashed like a weapon towards him. It was the same argument again, Round 23.

He shrugged an appeasing gesture, thinking he wasn’t taking the bait. “Okay. Fine. Go.”

Diehdan watched the exchange of angry looks with an amused smile. “We’ll go then.” She put a friendly hand on Wade’s shoulder as she led the way out the door. “You must tell me about where you’re from....” With a last glance back at her friends, Wade was out the door with their hostess.

The morning was beautiful and crisp, and Wade drew in a long breath with gratitude. The street in its waking stages looked innocent enough, no traces left of the near-riot the day before. And it was good to stretch out the aches after the long night of rough sleep. A quick trip to the market, a short farewell, and then they could be on their way out of this hellhole.

Diehdan led the way through the cramped and narrow streets. It wasn’t until they’d gone several blocks that Wade realized they’d headed in the opposite direction from the public square, and that was the logical place for a market. She wasn’t much of a judge of what was the “good” part of town here, but if she had to guess, she would say this wasn’t it. “Um, Diehdan, where is this market we’re going to?”

“It’s just up here a short way.” Diehdan reached into her sack for something. In a sudden gesture so smooth and abrupt that Wade didn’t know what was happening until it was too late, Diehdan had a loop of rope around Wade’s hands. She yanked on the lasso and twirled the length of rope once around between her hands, securing the grip around her bound wrists. Wade shouted in surprise, but Diehdan merely turned away and started pulling her along the street. Wade began to scream, but everyone around her merely watched with thin interest.

“Somebody! Help me! She’s kidnapping me! Help!!” She fought against the rope, but Diehdan was strong and determined. No one came to Wade’s assistance. She tried to dig in her heels, but she merely skittered along the dirt road. “What are you doing!?! Where are you taking me!?!?”

Diehdan looked back at her without breaking her stride. “I’m getting you out of the way where your friends will never find you.”

Wade was thunderstruck. She fought against her lead again, yanking hard several times. Diehdan frowned and turned suddenly, whipping the long free end of the rope across Wade’s face. “Don’t make this harder for yourself. I could just as easily kill you.” A cold shiver sliced down Wade’s spine as she knew it was true, and she instinctively jerked against Diehdan’s pull. The woman turned on her and lashed her several more times with the rope. “Do you think I’m going to let you go? Do you think someone’s going to help you? You’re a fool if you do!”

Wade fell to her knees and put her hands up to protect her face from the blows. “Someone, help me, please!!” Not one of the few onlookers bothered.

Her captor hit her a few more times, then dragged her to her feet. She yanked on the rope and started down the street again, her eyes slicing Wade in two as she looked back at her captive.

Diehdan let out an exclamation of surprise when she bumped into something. She turned to look and saw standing in her path a tall man, well built, dressed in the clothes of the town, a long cloth draped around his head and face, obscuring who he was. He held in his arms a large sack like hers, but his was full of food. “Having trouble?”

She growled at him, “I’m fine.”

The man looked at Wade. “Going to the slave market?”

“I’m not giving you a cut, if that’s what you want,” Diehdan snarled.

“Please,” Wade cried, “you’ve got to help me! She’s kidnapping me!”

The man looked at Wade. “She doesn’t look like a slave.”

Diehdan stated, “She owes me money and can’t pay. It’s my right.”

“I do not!” Wade shouted.

“She doesn’t agree with you,” the man said.

“I’m a merchant’s daughter!” Diehdan exclaimed. “My father is one of the most prominent men in Gomorrah! Only a fool would take the word of a stranger over mine!”

The man shook his head slightly. “Only a fool would take your word over anyone’s, Diehdan.”

The woman recoiled with surprise. “How do you know me?”

He pulled down the cloth hiding his face. Wade gasped with surprise. It was Quinn’s double. He was smiling at Diehdan. “You don’t recognize me, do you? But I recognize you. And I know you’re more than capable of taking a free woman to the lower slave market to sell her illegally. Merchant’s daughter or no, you’d pay heavily for that.”

Diehdan looked at his arm holding the sack of food and smirked when she saw the tattooed black band just above his wrist. “And who would believe the word of a slave?” She freed the long line of Wade’s leash to hit him, but he caught the rope mid-air.

“I’m from the House of Abneer,” he said ominously. “They’d believe me.”

Diehdan shuddered, and Quinn’s double pulled the rope from her hands. He pulled on the rope, guiding the startled but still reluctant Wade to his side. The man trained an intense gaze at Diehdan. “You know where to find her.” He smiled impishly. “Come if you dare.” He reached into the top of his sack and pulled out a pinch of something, blowing it on her face. She coughed and sputtered, a red dust on her face and hair. The man took Wade by the hands and hurried her away down a narrow alley as Diehdan tried to brush the powder off her head and screamed in rage.

Wade offered little resistance to Quinn’s double as they fled through the back streets. She was glad to be free of Diehdan, and even if she’d tried to get away from this man, she wouldn’t have gotten very far. She didn’t know where she was, she had no idea what to do, and he was Quinn’s match in height and from the firmness of his grip she guessed probably his better in strength. She would allow herself to be led until she could get a sense of what was happening.

They stopped a few blocks away and he looked back the way they’d come as he undid the rope around her hands. “Are you all right?”

She shook her hands free, then answered cautiously. “I guess.”

He looked at her as she rubbed her wrists, then saw the abrasion on her cheek from Diehdan’s lashes. He winced. “What did you do to run afoul of her?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s because I was a woman in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He nodded with understanding. “...Why did you help me? No one else did.”

He smiled. “Because no one else did. And I know Diehdan, so I know any enemy of hers may be worth saving. And I remember you from yesterday, when you and your family walked past.”

She blinked. “Family? No...well, not exactly. Friends.”

He marveled. “One of them, it was astonishing! He looked almost exactly like I used to.” She reacted noncommittally. “Does he have family in Talan or Salem?”

“No.”

“I can’t believe he looks so much like me and he’s not family somehow.” He shook his head with a small smile, then turned to walk down the street. “Where are your friends? I’ll go with you.”

She hesitated. “Actually, they’re still at Diehdan’s father’s shop.”

He frowned. “That’s bad. Well, we can work around that.” He started down the alley. “Come on.”

She didn’t move. “Where?”

He stopped and looked back at her. The suspicion on her face was clear. To her consternation, he smirked that smirk Quinn used when he knew a secret he wasn’t ready to share yet. Even through that beard, the image of so Quinn-like an expression was unnerving. “Someplace safe.” She wasn’t convinced and didn’t budge. He laughed lightly. “I’ll take you to the one place where Diehdan will not come looking for you. You’ll be safe there, and I can send a messenger to your friends to let them know where you are, so they can come and meet you and you can all leave.” She shivered as that Quinn sparkle lit his eyes. “Good enough?”

“Where exactly is this one safe place?”

“The House of Abneer.”

“What’s that?”

“Where I live.” He took another step back, coaxing her with a gesture to follow. “You’ll be fine.”

She wasn’t so sure. “...But isn’t that a....” She didn’t know how to phrase it delicately.

He saved her the trouble. “A brothel.” His matter-of-fact tone startled her. He frowned as she didn’t move, and his tone became insistent. “The longer you stay here, the more likely she is to find you, probably with a soldier. And a soldier will not take your word or mine over hers. You do _not_ want to go to prison. She’ll give someone a little money, and you’ll never be seen again.” She knew he was right about that. Well, so much for having a choice. Reluctantly, she started to go with him, and he nodded as she fell in step beside him. “My name is Ani.”

She smiled slightly. “Like Yanni,” she said quietly, amused that Quinn’s counterpart had a name so similar to one of his least favorite musicians.

“‘Yanni’?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing. I’m Wade.”

“Wade,” he said, savoring the strangeness of it. He nodded. “Interesting. I like it.”

They walked together, and as they passed strangers who stared openly at her, she had to admit she appreciated his company for the moment. He shifted his sack of groceries from one arm to the other. “Where are you from, Wade? I’ve never seen anyone dressed like you and your friends.”

“We’re from a long way away.”

“What kingdom?”

This was a little too weird for her. “You’ve never heard of it. It’s really far away.” He nodded thoughtfully. She looked at the bag of food. “...So, what do you do at...the House of Abneer? Are you, like, the handy—”

“I’m a prostitute.”

Again, his matter-of-fact tone cut through her. There was no shame, no hesitation at all. This was Sodom and Gomorrah, all right. She rolled her eyes. Quinn was going to die when she told him about this. “...So, grocery shopping...is part of the job?”

He shook his head. “No. There are kitchen slaves to do this. I just like to get outside whenever I can, so I volunteer.” They came to a larger cross street, and he turned right. She followed.

“...So...things are slow then at the....”

He nodded. “This is always a slow time of year. People are still recovering from the festival of Kadesh, and then they’re getting ready for the festival of Pidray. The timing’s just wrong. Too far apart to flow into each other, but not far enough apart that the regular trade picks up again. The priests obviously didn’t plan the festivals with the merchants and brothels in mind.”

She nodded neutrally. “Yeah. It’s a shame when that happens.”

“So, what were you doing at Diehdan’s father’s shop?”

“We got stuck there when the riot broke out.”

He grew serious. “At the execution.”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t speak for a time, and she could see the troubled concern on his face. “...Did you know the man?”

He shook his head. “But he was a slave, too. What happened to him could happen to me.”

She nodded, and it was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it. She said, “So, we had to spend the night there.”

“Did Diehdan do anything?”

“What do you mean?”

“Anything...forward.”

“Well, she made us clean up the store in exchange for staying in a stockroom. We worked our butts off.”

He laughed at her turn of phrase, then glanced at her behind. “I’d say it’s still there.”

She shook her head. Men. “It’s just a figure of speech.”

“So, she didn’t make advances on anyone.”

“No. But I could tell she liked Quinn.”

“Quinn?”

“The guy who looks like you.”

He thought about that for a moment, then he let out a great laugh. “She _really_ doesn’t remember me, then!” He led the way as they turned down another smaller cross street.

Wade frowned. “What do you mean?”

He tried to figure out how to phrase it. “It’s hard to explain. Abneer’s mark is against her. We threw her out. Literally. We tossed her into the street.”

Wade’s eyes grew wide. “What did she do?”

He was reluctant to answer, and he spoke quietly. “She abused one of the girls. So Abneer had us throw her out. I tossed her into the street like a bag of potatoes.” He paused, his eyes narrowed. “It was very satisfying. I shouldn’t admit that, but it was.”

Wade couldn’t imagine any of this—except that Diehdan deserved what she got. But before she could form a picture in her mind of Diehdan landing like a sack of potatoes in the street, Ani turned down a narrow alley, then approached a back door. She recognized the building from the day before. “Come in.”

All of a sudden, she wasn’t ready for this. “But, I can’t—”

Before she could finish her protest, with a gentle hand on her arm he led her inside.

Wade didn’t know what to expect. She’d never particularly thought about what brothels were like inside. But she found herself following Ani down an undecorated hallway towards a noisy room. Suddenly they were inside a hive of activity—a bustling kitchen. Several girls, who couldn’t have been older than ten, were cutting up vegetables as a fat man of forty-five was inspecting the pots for cleanliness. The girls looked at Wade with surprise, but when the man saw her, he winked at Ani. “Not another stray, boy? One of these days, you’ll run out of luck.”

“She’s only here for a few hours,” Ani said as he set down the sack of food on a table before the man. “She’s hiding from Diehdan. This was the only place to take her.”

The man chuckled as he rolled his eyes at her. “Run afoul of the Mistress of Terror, have you? You’re not very smart.” He counted the change Ani handed him, then eyed him severely. “You made sure he didn’t cheat you on the change?”

“Absolutely,” Ani said. “And I made sure he didn’t tip the scale.”

“Good fellow,” the cook said, then with a wink tucked a few copper coins under his belt before putting the rest of the coins in a small bowl on the shelf. Wade noticed he had a tattooed band above his right wrist, just as Ani did. She looked at the girls. They all had the same tattoo. She concluded it must be a mark to indicate they were slaves.

Ani headed for the door and beckoned Wade to follow. She steeled herself as he turned right and headed deeper into the building. After what they’d seen on the street the day before, she couldn’t imagine what horrors she’d encounter in here. But it was all very quiet and empty as he led the way through the maze of hallways to a back stairway. He went up, and she followed.

Now, she knew it, things were going to get very weird now. She didn’t want to look as he reached the next floor and went down the hall. This looked like a public area, with rooms on both sides of the hallway. Doors were open all along the way—would she have the courage to look inside, even by accident? In spite of herself, she looked inside the first open door. It was a simple bedroom—or whatever you called these rooms—with no one inside. The next door was closed, but the next was open. Same thing, a room with a bed and modest furnishings and not a hint of iniquity anywhere. The slow season indeed. Thank goodness.

Ani led the way to the end of the hall, then turned down a narrower hallway. He went into the third room on the left. She didn’t want to follow, but when she saw it was just the Biblical equivalent of an employee lounge, she went in. Ani went to a table, where a young man—boy, really, as he looked no older than fifteen—was practicing with what looked like a type of dice.

“Opah, I need you to do me a favor.”

The boy smiled when he saw Ani, his dark eyes glittering with sincerity. “What do you need?”

“I want you to relay a message to some people who are staying at the house of Ahmeck.”

The boy frowned with disdain. “Well, all right. What’s the message?”

“It’s not that easy,” Ani said as he sat next to his friend. Opah saw Wade for the first time and stared at her.

“Ani, what are you doing? You know how Abneer feels about freeloaders.”

“She’s not a freeloader,” he said as he gestured for Wade to join them at the table. “She’s only going to be here for a few hours. And besides, Abneer’s gone. And you’re not going to tell him, are you?” He looked at the boy intently.

“No, I would like to live a while longer.” He flashed a relaxed smile. “So, why isn’t the message so easy?”

“Because you can’t let Diehdan or any of their slaves hear the message or even know you’re being a messenger.” The boy frowned. Ani nodded towards Wade. “She’s hiding from Diehdan, and you need to let her friends know that she’s here and she’s safe, and then I need you to bring them here.”

“All without Diehdan knowing,” he said with an arch tone. “Anything else you’d like? A princess from the palace, perhaps?”

“If anyone can do it, you can,” Ani said with a friend’s smile.

The boy nodded. “That’s true enough. So, who do I talk to?”

Ani glanced at Wade. “We’ll make it easy for you. There’s someone there who looks exactly like me without a beard. Tell him.”

“He looks like you.”

Ani smiled. “When you see him, don’t think I’ve shaved and I’m playing a prank on you. It really is someone else.”

“His name?”

“Quinn.”

“‘Quinn’? What kind of name is that?” he said to Wade with a frown.

There was something slippery about this boy that irritated Wade. If she’d encountered him back home, she would have wondered if he stole cars. In spite of herself, she answered absently, “Irish, I think, but you’ve never heard of Ireland so it doesn’t make much difference, does it?”

He regarded her with an arch blink. “Are you always this grateful when people do you favors?”

Stung, she retreated. “Sorry.”

Ani said quietly to his friend, “Go easy on her. I don’t think she’s been in a brothel before.”

Opah looked surprised. “Don’t they have brothels in Ireland or wherever you come from?”

She answered somewhat sheepishly, “Well, yes, but no one ever goes in them.”

The two exchanged a skeptical glance. The boy said, “How do they stay in business?”

“Well, I mean, no one I know ever goes in them.”

“Why not?” the boy asked simply.

She was fighting her embarrassment. “Because I don’t tend to know that kind of person.”

Opah frowned. “What kind of person?” he asked, glancing at both her and Ani. She didn’t know how to answer. He asked Ani, “Did Diehdan hit her on the head or something?”

Ani tried to hide his smile. “Just find Quinn, and tell him, and him alone, that Wade is here and then bring him back if he needs a guide. And don’t let Diehdan see you.”

The boy stood. “For you.” He glanced at Wade, then a teasing smirk slipped out. “Ani, why are your friends always so strange?”

“I don’t know,” he said innocently. “You’re one of my friends.”

The boy snorted as he headed for the door. “We know why I’m strange.” He laughed, then left.

“Ani,” Wade said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend him.”

He shook his head. “It’s all right. He was born and raised here. He doesn’t know that places exist where there aren’t brothels on every corner.”

She caught a glimpse of something in his eyes. Was it wistfulness? Sadness? “You didn’t grow up here?”

He stood. “Are you hungry?” he asked brightly. “I’m famished!” He headed for the door. “Let me see what I can find in the kitchen.” He disappeared out the door.

She sighed. In addition to everything else, Ani also had Quinn’s annoying habit of ignoring inconvenient questions.

Quinn checked his watch again as he paced across the shop’s floor. “This isn’t right, this isn’t right....”

Arturo and Rembrandt were thinking the same thing, but neither wanted to feed Quinn’s fears. Arturo said, “I’m sure they simply were delayed.”

Quinn turned on him. “It’s been half an hour. What could possibly take so long? Unless it was trouble.” He shook his head, then glanced at Rembrandt. “You were right, Remmy. We shouldn’t trust anyone here.” He began to pace again. “If anything happens to her, I’ll—”

They all turned as the shop’s front door opened. Diehdan walked in, looking composed and collected as her eyes trailed from one man to the next. Quinn was suddenly in front of her. “Where’s Wade?”

She regarded Quinn for a long time, then her eyes grew large with puzzled recognition. She said simply, “She’s safe.”

Quinn fumed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Where is she? What have you done with her!?” He took her by the shoulders, but she only looked at his hands with a cold silence.

“Quinn,” Arturo said quietly.

The young man glared at the woman, then released her. “Where is she? Tell me where she is.”

“I will,” she said calmly. “For a price.”

Quinn was about to lose his temper when Arturo said, “We have no money to ransom her. You know that.”

“I don’t want money,” Diehdan said in a controlled voice.

“What do you want?” Rembrandt asked.

She glanced at him, then looked at Quinn. “I want you.”

Quinn blinked, then stared at her. “What?”

“From sunset to sunrise. And then I’ll tell you where she is and you can be on your way.”

Quinn shuddered. “You’re out of your mind.”

She shrugged slightly and walked around him. “Fine. Never see her again. I don’t care.”

Quinn grabbed her shoulder as she passed him and he spun her around, cocking his arm as if to strike her. Rembrandt took a firm grip on his arm. “No, man, don’t do it.”

Quinn glared at her. The flat stare she offered back indicated she wasn’t impressed with his little display. As he looked in her cold, predator’s eyes, Quinn’s stomach sank. She held all the cards. He had no choice. Suddenly unsure, he glanced at his friends, then didn’t quite look at her. “Let us talk it over for a minute.” She shrugged, then strolled away to give them a moment of privacy.

The men gathered for a quick huddle. Quinn groaned, “This is my fault.”

Arturo shook his head. “This is no time for self-blame. We need to find her. We have until sunset.”

Rembrandt shook his head. “How are we going to find her? She could be anywhere.” He looked at them with resolve. “I’m sorry, Quinn. You know I love that girl like a sister, but we have to be realistic. We’ve got less than forty-eight hours before we slide. We’ve got to find Lot and get out of here by then. We could spend a week looking all over this town for Wade and not find her. ...I hate to say it, Q-Ball, but the only way we’re going to get Wade back is if she tells us.”

Arturo added, “And the only way she’s going to tell us is if you...humor her.”

“‘Humor’?” Quinn said in a harsh whisper. Neither man responded. The three looked at Diehdan in silence, and she regarded them stonily from across the room. For the first time Quinn noticed what looked like a curious dusting of red powder on her hair.

“I can’t do it,” Quinn said.

“Then you’ll have to find some reasonable substitute.” Arturo replied. “Miss Welles is a very small needle in this labyrinthine haystack. ...As distasteful as this is, I’m afraid this is your only option.”

Quinn couldn’t look at them. There had to be another way...but there was none. This was a nightmare. He looked over at her again. She was staring at them, her arms crossed and her eyes filled with cold impatience. “Well?” she said.

He couldn’t look at any of them. “...All right.”

She shrugged and turned to go upstairs. “Be back by sunset.” She paused and said over her shoulder pointedly, “After you’ve tried looking for her, of course.” She punctuated her remark with a smirk, then headed upstairs.

Quinn groaned angrily, and Arturo put a consoling hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, my boy. We’ll do the best we can to find her. With luck, we can all be on our way well before sunset and our ‘hostess’ will be none the wiser.”

Quinn wasn’t fooled by Arturo’s optimism. He sighed. “All right. Look, if we don’t find her, at sunset you two leave to go find Lot. I’ll...do whatever and we’ll meet up with you later.”

Arturo looked at him seriously. “I’m afraid we don’t have until sunset.” Quinn frowned. “We can’t be out on the streets after dark. I figure we’ll have to leave for Sodom by noon in order to arrive at Lot’s house safely by sunset.” Quinn’s face fell. “I’m sorry. But that’s the truth of it. I wish it weren’t.”

Quinn thought for a long moment, then handed Arturo the timer. Arturo moved to protest, but Quinn cut him off. “No. You’re right. But it’ll be okay. I’ll search by myself. It’s a waste to have us stay together. ...I mean,” he said sullenly, “we have to cover as much ground as we can as quickly as possible. Who knows what kind of hellhole she’s in?”

“No,” Wade said, “I can’t.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“I insist.”

“No. No means no.”

“Just one more,” Ani persisted.

She pushed the plate of sliced fruit away. “Really, I can’t. I’m stuffed.” She looked around at the city from the comfortable rooftop terrace as Ani took another slice of apple from the plate of fresh fruit and bread on the small table between them. She sat back in the chair and sighed contentedly, picking up her ceramic goblet of wine and taking a small sip. Above the rooftops in the distance, she could see the Golden Gate and Marin County—or whatever they called Marin County here—in the clear morning light. It was still odd seeing the Gate without a bridge, but she rather liked it, actually. She smiled in spite of herself. This was certainly pleasant.

“You look happy,” Ani said. She glanced at him, then looked back out at the vista, a little embarrassed.

“I guess it’s just that this is so nice after such a terrible day yesterday.” She looked at him, trying to ignore his smile. “I mean, an hour ago I was being dragged off to...where?”

“The lower slave market. They don’t ask questions there.”

“So, I was being dragged off to who knows what terrible thing, and now, well, people back home pay big bucks for dining al fresco with that view.”

“‘Big bucks’?” he said quizzically.

She shook her head. “Um, I mean this is very nice.”

“Where is back home?” he asked as he took a bite out of a slice of flatbread.

“...It’s, um, very far away.”

“You said that. What’s it called?”

“...America.”

He shook his head. “I’ve never heard of it.” He looked away at the view as he said, “It must be a nice place.”

“Yeah. I miss it a lot.”

His eyes returned to her. “So, why are you here?”

“It’s a long and very complicated story.”

A small smile touched his lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Wade eyed him and that spark of interest in his eyes. She knew that look. It wasn’t unique to Quinn. But she told herself there was no way he was flirting with her. No, it was his job to be this way. His job.... The thought of that put a chill on the moment for her. “Don’t you have to get to work or something?”

“We don’t open until after lunch. I’ve got plenty of time.”

He was giving her that look again, that “I’m interested in _you_ ” gaze. And that look coming out of Quinn’s eyes was a little more than she could handle at the moment. “So,” she said, trying to get a bit of distance, “what exactly do you do here?”

His brow creased as he regarded her. “I have sex with customers. Don’t they do that at brothels in America?” He nodded slightly, a playful sparkle in his eyes. “Oh, that’s right, you don’t know people who come into places like this.”

She knew she wasn’t blushing, but she felt as if she should be. She didn’t look at him directly as she said, “Okay, that was a dumb question. ...Let me, um, think of another one.” God, help. This was about to get very awkward. “How did you end up here? Were you born into...this business?”

“No. I sold myself in.”

She blinked and stared at him. “What? You sold yourself into slavery?”

He nodded. “My parents had a small fruit and vegetable business across the Living Sea in Talan, and—”

“Wait,” she interrupted. “Across where?”

“The Living Sea.” He made a small gesture. “East of here.”

A small smile grew on her face. “You call the Bay ‘the Living Sea.’” What a remarkable and poetic name...and how very Biblical, like the Dead Sea. She shook her head slightly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. You were saying....”

“My father was a trader and sold produce for the local farmers, but things got very bad during the famine, so we moved over to this side, but things never got better, and then my father died, and my mother was sick for a while. There was no way I could keep the business going by myself. So, I came down here, sold myself to Abneer for a good price, and I gave the money to my mother so she could go back to her hometown and live very well.”

Wade had no idea what to say. This made no sense to her. “I can’t believe you chose this. Was your mother okay with this?” He frowned, not understanding what she was saying. “I mean, did your mother think this was all right?”

“Not really. But we didn’t have much choice. The famine and war turned everything upside down. When the war started, everyone my age was being taken away to the army. At least this way I’d be alive and she’d have money to live on for the rest of her life. Other families lost their sons and had nothing.”

“But you can’t like this...can you?”

“I’m well fed, I’m well cared for, the work isn’t very strenuous. It’s much better than being a farm laborer or a shepherd. Or dead in some battlefield grave somewhere because one king decided he was more important than the others.” She noticed his eyes glance away as he said, “There are some parts I don’t like, but there are parts of anything in life that you don’t like.”

She pushed past the reserve she knew she should be keeping. From the way he was acting around her, it was easy to make a few assumptions. “But, my God, you have to do things that—that I can’t imagine. I mean,” she instinctively lowered her voice, although they were alone, “you can’t enjoy having sex with men.”

He didn’t look her in the eye again, which she noticed. “Not particularly.” When he looked at her, that impish Quinn sparkle lit his eyes again. “You don’t think I grew this beard because it looks good, do you?” She blinked. “I grew it because most of the men didn’t like it.” His smile grew. “Abneer was mad at first, but I was getting too tall and strong to be popular anyway, and very few men were asking for me anymore. And some of the women really liked the beard. One in particular, who turned out to be an Olmec princess in disguise. She was at court for some political marriage negotiation. It didn’t work out, she went home. But their men don’t grow beards. She thought I was very exotic.” His smile showed he liked being “exotic.” “So Abneer realized he could raise my rates, and my business doubled, and as usual he found a way to make more money.”

Wade’s mouth had fallen open in surprise. “Most of your customers are women?”

“All of them now.”

She knew her mouth was open, but she didn’t care. “Women come here?”

He didn’t understand her point. “Yes.”

“My God.”

“Why are you so surprised?”

She sputtered a moment. “I, ah, I just, um...women don’t do that...back home.”

“Why not?”

She had no idea how to answer him. “Well, we’re just not raised that way. I mean, most women don’t...want to have sex quite as much as men do and so they...don’t have to pay for it.” She could see he didn’t understand. “I mean, most men...are happy to give it away for free.” She couldn’t believe she’d just said that.

He nodded slightly. “Why are the women in America raised not to want to have sex as much as men?”

Wade knew she was painting herself into a corner on this, and she had absolutely no answer for him. “...It’s a long tradition that, um, we’re trying to undo.”

He nodded. “Maybe they should visit here.” He flashed a small smile. “I think the men in America would be happy if they did.”

She said flatly, “It’s too far a trip for most of them to make.”

“That’s too bad. But here, women don’t have that problem. Besides, most of my customers are old enough that men don’t seek them out anymore. And a few are married, and no one would dare to risk the wrath of their husbands.”

This was a little too odd for Wade to contemplate. Wives could visit brothels with impunity? “Wait a minute. What about birth control?”

“What?”

“I mean children. Have all of your...customers gone through ‘The Change’?”

“Some. Not all.”

“But how do they make sure they don’t get pregnant?”

“No one gets pregnant.”

“Why not?” As soon as she asked the question, a whole raft of possible reasons why occurred to her, and she was suddenly sorry she’d brought up the topic.

“Abneer brings in an apothecary every month. The best in town. He prepares very effective herb compounds.”

“Herbal birth control?” She frowned. “It’s something you eat?” He nodded. “It really works?”

“No children I know of. And I would know. Most of my customers are regulars.”

“No...side effects?” He shook his head, a bit amused by her fascination with this. Wade blinked. An effective male “pill.” And organic to boot. Back home the formula would be worth billions! No, there was no way this could be so simple. “What about venereal diseases?”

His frown spoke his question.

“Diseases that you get from having sex with other people.”

His eyes widened at that. “No wonder people don’t want to have sex in America.”

“You have no diseases here?” she asked incredulously. He shook his head as he picked up his goblet of wine. “No, like, sores, or itching, or anything like that?” She could see his curious frown over the rim of his goblet as he took a swallow. She couldn’t believe this. “You mean, sex has absolutely no consequences here?”

“Not if we don’t want it to,” he said as he put the goblet back on the table.

She couldn’t imagine this. He must be mistaken. There was no way this place could be so, well, easy.

Ani could see she was getting lost in her thoughts. “Tell me about Quinn. Is he your husband?”

She blinked with surprise. “No. He’s not. We’re just friends.” She watched as a smile grew large across his face. She frowned. “What?”

“I like the way you said that. ‘We’re just friends.’”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said with annoyance.

He shook his head and looked away. “Nothing. It was...interesting.”

She scowled at him. She wasn’t in the mood to be baited. “So Opah can be trusted to deliver the message?” He nodded. “Doesn’t he have to be back to work after lunch when the place opens?”

Ani shook his head. “No, he’s not a prostitute. He’s a house slave. He runs errands for Abneer, spies on Abneer’s competition, things like that. When Abneer’s gone, we can have him do things. He likes me, so he can be trusted to do what I ask.”

“But not the others?”

“Depends on what kind of mood he’s in.”

This didn’t bode well, Wade thought, but she didn’t want to think about it. “Where’s Abneer?”

“He’s over in Sodom. He wants to open a house there, so he’s negotiating with the court officials. He has great plans for all of us,” he said with a touch of skepticism. “He wants the House of Abneer to become the official brothel of the court of Gomorrah. But he has one other brothel ahead of him in status, so he’s trying to establish himself over in Sodom as well. I don’t think he can do it. At least I hope he can’t. If he opens another house, he might transfer me over there.” From his tone of voice, it was clear he didn’t want to go.

“...What’s it like over there? Is it...like, guys having sex everywhere?”

Ani took another sip of his wine. “I don’t like it over there. It’s extremely dangerous. In Gomorrah, there are a few basic rules that hold society together. People know what they can do, and what they can’t. I’m protected because I’m Abneer’s slave, and no one wants to make Abneer angry by damaging his property. As long as I obey the rules—don’t strike a freeman, don’t accept money from a customer, and don’t go out after dark without a customer—I’m basically safe. But over there,” he shook his head, “there are only two rules: Don’t harm a rich man or his family, and don’t commit a crime in daylight.” Wade blinked with disbelief. “Either of those will get you killed. But almost anything else you can do without fear of punishment.” He shuddered slightly. “Any slave over there is risking great danger if he goes outside without his master. Anyone could do anything they want to them if they found them alone.”

The memories of the previous night’s attack outside the stockroom rushed back, giving Wade the shivers. “Yeah, I know about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Some poor slave happened to get caught outside Diehdan’s shop last night, and some men...attacked him. It was awful.”

Ani shook his head. “I don’t think it merely ‘happened.’ I’ve heard stories that Diehdan pays street ruffians to bring their victims outside her father’s house so she can watch them.”

Wade shuddered and put a hand over her mouth. She didn’t know why she was surprised by his words. Which led to another dark thought. “...You said earlier that you’d thrown Diehdan out of here because she’d abused one of the girls. ...What did she do?”

He looked reluctant, then said in a quiet voice, “She and three of her friends hired one of the girls...and then as her friends held her down, Diehdan raped her.”

“What? ...Wait a minute. How could she rape another woman?”

“Haven’t you ever seen a double dildo before?” He gestured the shape of one with his hands.

“Well, uh, I’ve heard of them, actually.” Wade was stunned. “My God. But how do you know this? Didn’t she deny it when the girl accused her?”

He shook his head. “All transactions are watched. It’s for everyone’s safety.”

“She did that with someone watching in the room!?”

“No, not in the room. There are narrow observing chambers next to every room. Did you notice in the hallway that all the doors are two by two? Room, observing chamber, then room, observing chamber. That’s so there’s always someone there to make sure nothing dangerous happens. When Abneer was new in the business, one of his most expensive girls was murdered by a client, so he’s made sure that won’t happen again.” He added, “And there are also customers who can only watch, or they like to watch first to get inspiration.”

Sodom and Gomorrah, Wade kept telling herself, this really is Sodom and Gomorrah. She asked quietly, “Were you the one who was watching?”

He nodded, his eyes narrow with anger. He said with a vengeful smirk, “I took great delight in throwing her naked out into the street, the dildo still strapped between her legs.”

Wade tried to imagine the sight, taking a small bit of satisfaction from the story. This also raised an interesting point. “So, she’s gay, then.”

“No,” he replied, “she was quite furious.”

Wade stammered for a moment. “No. I mean, she prefers women.”

Ani thought for a moment. “No. She prefers power.”

“God,” Wade said, shaking her head, “I don’t even want to think about what else she could have done to me if she’d gotten a chance.”


	3. Chapter 3

Quinn felt sick to his stomach. It was already nearly noon, and he had been searching through the streets of the town for four hours, but he was no closer to finding Wade than he was when he’d begun. He had to find her. He didn’t trust Diehdan. If he handed himself over as she demanded, he knew there was virtually no chance that she’d keep her word and tell him where Wade was. It might be their only chance, but it was basically no chance.

As he roamed the streets, he didn’t want to think about what might have happened to Wade. She could be dead. And it was all his fault. He tried to ask people if they’d seen her, but everyone wanted money before they’d even say they hadn’t. So, he kept on his logical pattern, spiraling out street by street from Diehdan’s father’s shop. Chances were Wade was no more than twenty minutes away from the shop, considering how quickly Diehdan had returned. Unless, of course, Diehdan had handed her over to someone else, who took her further away, possibly even out of the city.... He was getting angrier with every step he took.

He was standing dejectedly as yet another street merchant turned away with a heartless shrug without answering his question about Wade when he felt someone come up behind him and put his arms around him. For an instant he hoped it was Wade, but the person was much too tall. He tried to push the arms away, but they tightened around him. A man’s strong voice cooed in his ear, “I’m so glad to see you again.” The hands started down past Quinn’s belt.

Quinn spun and pushed the man away. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”

The man was a dapper townsman in this thirties, nearly Quinn’s height and weight, and he stood with a friend on either side. He was smiling at Quinn, or rather smirking. “So soon you’ve forgotten me? It hasn’t been more than two years.” He reached out to corral Quinn again.

He had no time to think as he slapped the man’s hands away and held up his fists to defend himself. “Back off, man!”

The man scowled at him, then noticed something. He stared at Quinn’s right wrist, then examined his face. He looked at the wrist again, then noted Quinn’s clothes. He took a step back and held his hands up with a frown. “Sorry. My mistake.” He stepped away, his confused friends in tow, then turned and walked away in a cloud of contained frustration.

Quinn growled as he watched the man retreat into the crowd. He noticed several people staring at him. “What the hell are you looking at!?” They quickly went about their business. Quinn tried to calm himself. With this affront on top of everything else, he wanted to punch someone, but he had to keep himself in check. He saw the vendor he had just been speaking with eyeing him from the shadows of his booth. Quinn glared at him. “What?”

The man glanced around, unsure.

Quinn was fed up with this world and trying to fight through everyone’s greedy self-interest. It was time to talk to these people in a language they understood. “Look, pal, if you know something, you better tell me, because I may not be able to control myself. Know what I mean?” Quinn could see the vendor mull it over, and Quinn absently picked up a tomato from the display and began to toss it lightly. He tossed it a bit higher, and then he deliberately reached too far for it and it dropped past his hand to the ground. He looked at the vendor with a small frown. “Oops.” He picked up another tomato.

The man stepped forward. “By Mot, please, I’ll tell you what I saw.”

Quinn quickly set down the tomato and leaned in to the man. “What?”

“Earlier—not long after dawn—I saw Diehdan, the daughter of Ahmeck, go by here with a woman who looked like the woman you seek.”

“Where were they going?” Quinn asked frantically.

The man glanced down the street in the direction the two had gone. “I don’t know.”

“What were they doing? How did she look?”

The man hesitated, and Quinn angrily picked up the entire basket of tomatoes. The vendor shuddered. “Diehdan...was leading her.”

“What do you mean, ‘leading her’?”

The man eyed the basket in Quinn’s hands, then said slowly, “She was bound.”

Quinn was beside himself. “Bound!?” In a flash, he put down the basket and had his hands firmly on the man’s collar, pushing him back into his stall. “Why the hell didn’t you do something to help her?”

The man stammered, “I thought she was a slave! The lower slave market is that way. People often take troublesome slaves they want to be rid of down there. There was nothing unusual in it.”

Quinn tightened his grip on the man’s clothes. “She was probably screaming her head off. Didn’t you bother to think it might be something else?”

The vendor was clearly frightened of Quinn. “No, sir, please, one learns not to argue with the daughter of Ahmeck! There was nothing I could do!”

In disgust, Quinn pushed him away, and the man stepped back into the corner of the stall. “Where is this lower slave market?”

The man nodded down the road as he straightened his ruffled clothing. “Not far. The morning auction is probably over, but maybe she didn’t sell the first time around.”

Quinn shuddered. God, what had happened to her? He took off down the street at a dead run.

Rembrandt and Arturo took refuge from the sun in the shade of a street vendor’s stall. Arturo checked his watch. “It’s 12:15.”

The two looked at each other for a long moment. Neither wanted to be the one to say it. It was past their deadline, and they were supposed to be leaving for Sodom. Their only hope of a safe place to stay for the evening was in Lot’s house, and they knew they had to find him by sunset in order to have any hope of arriving safely.

Rembrandt said, “How about if we give it another hour?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Arturo said gratefully. “We’ll have plenty of time to get over there by sunset.”

“I’m sure we will, Professor.” They exchange hopeful, if secretly doubtful, smiles. Rembrandt turned to ask the street vendor if he’d seen Wade.

Wade was enjoying this rooftop perch more and more, and she was beginning to wonder when lunch time was going to roll around. She was about to ask Ani when a young woman hurried up onto the roof. “There you are!” she said to Ani with exasperation. “The Lady Morughla is here.”

Ani was instantly on his feet. Whoever this Lady Morughla was, Wade thought, she certainly commanded respect. Ani turned to Wade. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“I thought you said the place didn’t open until after lunch.”

“The Lady Morughla sets her own schedule.” He looked at the young woman. “Yasmi, please keep Wade company until I get back.” The young woman obviously didn’t care much for that idea, but she nodded. Ani took a step towards the stairs, then thought of something. He looked at Wade. “Unless you’d like to watch.”

Wade blinked. “I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Thanks anyway.”

He nodded. “I’ll be back.” He went down the stairs.

Yasmi looked at Wade, then sat in the chair Ani had vacated. She glanced at Wade again, an uncertain skepticism in her eyes. She looked as if she didn’t know what to make of her.

“So,” Wade said, “your name is Yasmi?”

“Yes.”

Yasmi was beautiful, probably not quite twenty, with long black hair and rich amber eyes. Wade guessed she was one of the prostitutes and not a house slave.

“Are you a thief?” Yasmi asked.

Wade stammered with surprise. “What?”

“I don’t understand what you’re doing here.”

“Ani rescued me. Diehdan was taking me off to—”

“Oh.” Yasmi nodded. She obviously didn’t need to hear the rest. Wade wondered if Yasmi had been the unfortunate victim of Diehdan’s attack. Her expression was unreadable—probably a by-product of her line of work. “You were lucky. Diehdan isn’t often bested.”

Wade nodded. “Yeah, I can believe that.”

They sat in an awkward silence for a few moments. What was there for them to talk about?

Yasmi’s skeptical gaze settled on Wade’s hair. “Did you sell your hair? Or are you in mourning?”

“What?” She touched her short locks. “No. This is the fashion where I come from.”

Wade watched as Yasmi eyed her hair, then her clothes. “I don’t think it’ll become the fashion here.”

Wade shrugged. “You’re probably right about that.” Another moment of awkward silence. “How long have you been here?”

“Seven years.”

Wade tried to hide her astonishment. “...That seems like a long time.”

“It is a long time,” Yasmi said with little emotion. Wade tried to read her face. Despite her beauty, there was a deadness to Yasmi’s eyes that sent an involuntary shudder down Wade’s spine. She wondered if Ani would be like that someday.

Quinn turned yet another corner at a run and stopped when he saw it dead-ended into a small, dingy square with tall buildings on all sides. There was a wooden platform in the middle, and the dirt around it showed the passing of many pairs of feet. The place had a feeling of sadness and resignation to it. This had to be the lower slave market. To his dismay, he only saw a few raggedy old men talking quietly in a corner and a boy of seven sweeping off the platform with a desperately old broom. His heart sank. He went to the boy. “Excuse me.”

The boy stopped his sweeping and looked down at him with tired eyes that hardly belonged to a child.

“I’m looking for someone who might have been...sold here earlier.”

The boy didn’t react. Quinn wondered how many times he’d been asked this question before in his short life.

“She’s about this tall,” Quinn said, holding his hand up to Wade’s height, “and she had short hair, like a man. And she was dressed like me.” He indicated his pants and shirt. “Did you see her here earlier?”

The boy looked at Quinn’s clothes, then his eyes settled on Quinn’s belt. His eyes sparkled. “I’ll tell you for that.”

Quinn glared at the child. “You’ll tell me and I won’t beat you up.”

The boy wasn’t impressed. Quinn realized that in his line of work, the boy probably could read a bluff a mile away. He glanced around. The old men didn’t look any more trustworthy than the boy. He rested a hand on the belt, then thought of something. He looked hard at the boy. “Do you know who Diehdan is?”

The child perked up at that, and with a caution in his glance that said Diehdan’s reputation was well-established in this part of town.

Quinn said, “I work for her. If you know something and you don’t tell me, I’m afraid I’ll have to tell her about you.”

The boy tightened his grip on the broom handle. “There were only four women sold today. None with short hair.” Quinn intensified his gaze on the child to make sure he was telling the truth. “By Dagan’s manhood, I swear!”

Quinn was both disappointed and relieved that she hadn’t been there. “Will there be another auction today?”

“I don’t think so. Business is always slow during the festival season.”

Quinn realized that if Diehdan had been taking Wade to this market, something must have happened along the way. Perhaps someone had seen something. He’d canvas the streets along the way. At least he had a lead, if only a slim one. “Thank you,” he said to the boy, then turned back the way he’d come. The boy offered Quinn’s back a disdainful shrug, then returned to his sweeping.

Wade and Yasmi fell into a casual conversation to pass the time. Wade asked about the town, the kingdom, whatever else she could think of to ask about this strange place. Yasmi answered as best she could. Wade could tell that while her intellectual capacity had been stunted by life in a brothel, Yasmi had a savvy intelligence that undoubtedly served her well in her work. Wade appreciated her honesty and her quickness. She wondered if under other circumstances they might have been friends.

“Where are you from?” Yasmi asked, picking up a piece of leftover flatbread from the plate.

“It’s called America.”

She examined the piece of bread, trying to decide if she wanted a bite. “Where is it?”

“Far away. Really far away.”

“Why are you in Gomorrah?”

“Well, actually, we’re kind of lost.”

Yasmi chuckled at that, with a knowing glint in her eye. “Everyone in Gomorrah is lost.”

Wade knew Yasmi had every reason to be cynical, but the implication of her words bothered her. “Is Ani lost, too?”

Yasmi cast a knowing gaze on her. “You like him, don’t you?”

Wade answered neutrally, “Shouldn’t I?”

She decided about the bread and tore off a chunk. “He’s a dangerous person to know. He’s a slave who allows himself to forget what he is.”

“What do you mean?”

She took a bite of the bread. “He rescued you from Diehdan, didn’t he? I don’t know anyone else who would. Especially a slave. He’s Abneer’s great moneymaker, his favorite. Ani thinks that gives him power. But he’s wrong. I’ve been here long enough to know that Abneer’s favorite slave is still a slave. Ani knows. He’s seen. But he thinks it won’t happen to him.” She pulled another piece off the chunk of bread and said with a hint of sadness, “He may learn soon enough. But please Asherah that he does not.”

Wade could see there was a painful memory behind Yasmi’s eyes. She didn’t want to pry, but her curiosity and concern wouldn’t let her leave it alone. “Well, maybe it won’t happen to him. Maybe he’s exempt.”

Yasmi looked at her with the angry eyes of experience. “He is not. No one is. Ani’s seen. He’s participated. He’s fooling himself when he thinks that it can’t happen to him.”

Wade didn’t want to know, but she had to. “...Participated?”

Yasmi sighed tiredly as if she didn’t want to bother to explain, but she found the strength. “For Abneer, sex is power. It’s how he’s made his fortune, and it’s one way he keeps control over us. His favorite punishment is ‘a Lesson.’ He can’t do it often or else it will lose its power, but he more than enjoys it when he does. When a slave is troublesome, he gathers the entire house together, and then he has sex with the slave in front of everyone. The worse the infraction, the greater the humiliation. Sometimes he even makes the others do it, too.”

Wade shuddered. She didn’t want to hear this at all, but she’d started it and now was obliged to take it to its conclusion. “...He has sex with the guys, too?”

She nodded. “Boys, girls, there’s no difference to him. Although with the boys he’s more likely to choose the eunuch’s kiss than mount the doe.”

Wade had to assume she was using the local terminology for various sexual positions. And from Yasmi’s intensity, she also had to assume she knew too well about this. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she said, “...This happened to you, didn’t it?”

Yasmi looked out at the Golden Gate in the distance. Her voice was even, almost flat. “Two years ago. I was Abneer’s favorite then. But I refused a customer. He was filthy. I could see the lice in his clothes and hair. If Abneer had seen him, he would have agreed. But he didn’t see him, he only heard about his complaints. So he gave me a Lesson. A big Lesson.” She continued to look across at the mouth of the Bay. A hint of a smile touched her lips. “Poor Bradur. He was new to the house, not even a month yet. He and I had never been together for a customer before. It was the first time we had sex. He was so embarrassed.” Her gaze never left the distant hills as she concluded, “Then later, the matron told Abneer about the customer, and he apologized to me greatly.”

Wade tried to imagine the scene, but she couldn’t. “They all had to do this? Ani, too?”

She nodded. Her eyes narrowed as she regarded the vista, then she shook her head slightly. “Baal protect him in everything that he does. He didn’t really do it. He pretended.”

Wade said in a hushed voice, “How could he pretend?”

“Ani was last, and by then Abneer had lost interest. He wasn’t paying attention.” She gave Wade a knowing side glance. “And Ani had to pretend. He couldn’t do it.” She looked back at the Golden Gate. “And to fail is to risk a whipping. But I know that even if he could have, he wouldn’t.”

Wade couldn’t imagine all of what Yasmi was talking about, but she still needed to push the topic from her mind. She looked at the woman. Despite the hardness of her gaze, there was a tenderness when she spoke about him. “You like Ani a lot, don’t you?”

A small smile touched Yasmi’s lips. “He is a great friend.” Her knowing eyes settled on Wade. “He shouldn’t, but he likes you, too.”

Wade felt a tingle of excitement at her words, even though she knew she had no right to. “But isn’t he nice to everyone? It’s part of his job.”

“No. I can tell. He’s fed strays before, but I’ve never seen him act like this around anyone. Even Appanell.”

“Who’s Appanell?”

“She was a slave here about a year ago. She—”

Yasmi’s voice dried up as the building began to shake lightly. She grabbed the arms of her chair as Wade realized it was a moderate earthquake, probably less than a 5 on the Richter Scale. She looked at Yasmi, who was as white as a ghost. The shaking subsided. “By Baal!” Yasmi exclaimed breathlessly. “I wish He’d stop that!”

Ani appeared at the top of the stairs as the last of the temblor played itself out. He hurried to the ashen Yasmi and knelt by the chair. “Are you all right?” She was trembling slightly, and he stood and lifted her into a gentle hug.

“I wish He would stop that! What do we need to do to make Him stop?” She was clinging to him like a child, and Ani soothed her like an older brother to the rescue. Wade thought that whatever Yasmi’s problem was with earthquakes, she had it bad. Wade also noticed that Ani was in a different change of clothes, and his hair looked toweled dry as if he’d just taken a shower.

“What does any man want?” Ani said. “More attention.” Yasmi smiled at that. He offered her a reassuring gaze. “Go to the temple and offer a sacrifice. Surely Baal will listen to so heartfelt a prayer.”

A bit of the hardened prostitute reappeared in Yasmi’s eyes. “You’re very dangerous, Ani.”

He laughed at that. “Are you all right now?” She nodded. “Go on, before the temple becomes too crowded.” With a farewell glance to Wade, Yasmi left. Ani looked at Wade. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Why is Yasmi so afraid of earthquakes?”

He sat in the vacated chair. “Her family was killed in one when she was thirteen.”

“And that’s how she ended up here,” Wade realized aloud. Rembrandt’s grim warning about this town’s future came back to her, and, to her dismay, it was beginning to seem real. She said quietly, “You’ve been having a lot of small earthquakes over the last couple of months, haven’t you?”

Ani looked at her with surprise. “How did you know?”

Could she tell him that major earthquakes are often preceded by clusters of smaller ones? Did she believe that this place was going to disappear in a cloud of fire and brimstone in two days? How much would she risk telling Ani? Even though he was Quinn’s counterpart, he was a product of a time and place where kings and slaves were the natural order of things, and where gods made the earth tremble. Her life literally depended on him; would she lose his support if she told him too much?

She looked at him. But how could she not tell him? If what Rembrandt said was true, this place was going to be toast in less than forty-eight hours...and Ani along with it. He had already saved her life—how could she not return the favor?

“Ani...have you ever heard of Abraham?”

“Yes, he’s the man who ended the Elamite alliance war with a handful of servants.”

“...Well...his God is going to...destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. Soon.”

“Why?” He seemed more concerned than scared.

“Because He’s angry with you.”

“Why? He’s not even a local god.”

“Well, actually, He’s sort of everybody’s God, even though people around here don’t know it. And He doesn’t like the way you folks live here, and He’s going to put an end to it.”

She was hoping she was making some sense, but his reply dispelled any hope she had. He downed the last swallow of wine in his cup and said, “I don’t know who told you this story, but it would sound a lot better if you believed what you said.” He stood up. “It’s time for lunch. Come.” He headed for the stairs.

She sighed. So much for her career as a prophet. She stood slowly and followed him.

Lunch was in a large dining room with row tables and benches and food dished out on the side. As Wade stood in line behind Ani with her plate, she thought it almost looked like a school cafeteria. “A Biblical buffet,” she thought to herself with a chuckle. The food choices were relatively familiar—breads, cheeses, fruit, a variety of vegetables, some cold fowl—although there were a few fermented pastes and salted meats that looked terrible and smelled worse. She skipped those. She followed Ani to a table, where he joined a few of the others. There were thirty or so in the room, and Wade guessed no one was over twenty-five. Well, she thought, this game is pretty much for the young.

Ani introduced her to everyone, although she didn’t catch all of the names. She did notice the name Bradur, who was the smiling friend who saved Ani and Wade seats at the table. She remembered Yasmi’s “introduction” to Bradur, and she tried not to be awkward around him. But if she didn’t recall the names of the rest of the group, she did remember the amused looks a few of the others gave her and Ani. The others were almost finished with their meal, so after a short chat about some customers and the quake and local news, they drifted away to whatever it was they did after lunch.

Wade watched Ani dig heartily through his heaping plate of food. He certainly ate like Quinn, which was to say he ate like a horse. She picked at her food as she thought about what to do next. She’d made an effort to convince him of the danger; should she leave it at that and comfort herself that she’d tried? Certainly, he couldn’t relate to her knowledge of geophysics, and neither could he appreciate that he was living in a Biblical ground zero. To be honest, she still wasn’t convinced of it, either, and that affected her ability to convince him. She pondered her choices. After watching him chat with his friends over lunch, it was clear that he was popular, and she could tell it wasn’t because he was Abneer’s favorite. He related to everyone well, and he seemed to understand them implicitly. She was beginning to appreciate his special talents. In a world without physics or the least hint of advanced technology, he’d turned the genius he shared with Quinn into a deep understanding of people. She could see why he would be Abneer’s “great moneymaker.” He undoubtedly knew how to communicate with and understand each of his clients and gave her exactly what she wanted. He was certainly seeing through her in ways she didn’t expect or want.

“You’re very thoughtful,” he said. Case in point, she thought. “Don’t you like the food?”

“No, it’s fine. I feel kind of guilty eating here without paying. Won’t you get into trouble?”

“I’ll skip dinner to make up for it,” he said casually.

“Don’t you need to keep up your strength?” she said with a pointed edge in her voice, then winced when she realized how that had come out. When she saw his smile, she realized to her dismay he’d heard that edge, too.

“We’re only allowed to have three clients a day so we’re not overtaxed. I have one other appointment today, before dinner. I’ll be fine.”

She ate some more, thinking about Yasmi’s warning that Ani had a blind spot when it came to his place with Abneer. She thought about what might happen in two days’ time. She thought about what she should do. Despite the beard and the different clothes and the line of work, this man before her was very much like Quinn in too many ways for her to ignore. And even if he weren’t, she couldn’t turn her back on him. “Ani, could you ever buy your freedom?”

He glanced around cautiously, and she realized maybe she should have kept her voice down. No one was within earshot, and he said quietly, “No. I’d have to pay double what Abneer paid for me.”

“Double? That doesn’t seem fair.”

“We’re well trained, and that takes money.”

“How much money would you have to have to buy your freedom?”

“Half a talent of silver.”

She frowned. “How much is that?”

He gave her a quick once-over. “You probably weigh one and a third talents.”

She was stunned. “Thirty-five pounds? You’d have to pay him _thirty-five pounds_ of silver?”

He nodded. “We get a small portion of what clients pay for us, but even if I saved every gerah, it wouldn’t be enough to pay for myself.”

“What about one of your customers? Wouldn’t they pay to free you?”

“Why? If they bought me outright, they’d have to pay for my upkeep. It’s easier for them to pay for me only when they want me.”

Her mind churned. There had to be some way to get him out of here in the next two days...wasn’t there? But thirty-five pounds of silver....

Another idea occurred to her, and she knew to keep her voice down this time. She leaned in and whispered, “What would happen if you ran away?”

His face grew dark. He looked at the tattoo around his right wrist. “There’s nowhere I could go with this,” he said in a low voice. Someone would catch me, and turn me over to Abneer. And Abneer could do whatever he wanted to me.”

Wade didn’t need to be reminded of yesterday’s public execution to guess what that could mean. Her mind continued to churn. She couldn’t turn her back on him. But she needed time to think. “Tell me about Appanell.”

A small smile touched his lips. “Yasmi’s been talking too much.” She smiled slightly at that. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Abneer bought Appanell from her stepfather a year ago last spring. He put her to work as a prostitute.” He thought for a moment, choosing his words. “To do this work, you have to adapt, or you begin to die. She never adapted.” His eyes grew distant. “She tried to kill herself. Twice. But I always found her in time.”

She thought the look in his eyes reflected fondness rather than love, but she couldn’t be sure. He was an expert at hiding his thoughts. Either way, he cared about her deeply. She asked quietly, “What happened to her?”

“After the second time, Abneer had enough and sold her. I don’t know where she is. But I like to believe she’s someplace happy, and safe...where she could adapt.”

“You’ve adapted, haven’t you?” Her words became emboldened with the urgency of her thoughts. “But not entirely. Part of you is dying, too.” He looked at her opaquely. “...Ani, I know you better than you think I do,” she said gently in a low voice. “I know you miss your mother. I know you don’t like this. I know the only way you’ve been able to adapt is by locking part of yourself in a little room and hoping that part would be quiet. And you think that because you don’t hear that little part anymore that it’s adapting, too. But it isn’t. It’s dying. And when that part of you dies, you’ll be like Diehdan. The only difference between you and her will be that she knows she’s like that, and you won’t.”

He looked at her for a long moment with a gaze she couldn’t interpret. He said finally, “If part of me has to die so the rest can go on, then that’s how it has to be. I’m long past choosing.”

She shook her head slightly. “You make that choice every moment. The day you don’t care what the Diehdans do, or the day you stop thinking about the Appanells, that’s the day it’s too late.”

He trained a distant, examining gaze on her. “Why are you saying these things to me, Wade? What do you want? I’ve made my choice. I have to live with it. I’ll be here for the rest of my life. I accept that. It’s not for you to tell me I shouldn’t. I must. I have no choice.”

He went back to his meal, but she could see he was still troubled. Her heart sank. Had she overplayed her hand? Had she pushed too hard, or not hard enough? He was unreadable. As much like Quinn as he was, he wasn’t Quinn, and she had to admit she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did. She said nothing for the rest of the meal.

When he finished eating, Ani stood. “You’re through?” She had finished long before him and nodded. “I have to work, so you need to stay someplace safe.” He left the dining hall, and she followed him down a labyrinthine series of corridors back into the far reaches of the building. He opened the door to a small, dim room. There were four small bunks—two above, two below against each side wall—and only a high window in the plain, no-frills room. A young man Wade hadn’t met at lunch was napping in the lower bunk on the right.

Ani whispered as he indicated the lower bunk on the left, “You can stay here until I come for you. I’ve left word with our matron to let me know when your friends arrive.”

Wade looked at the napping young man, who awoke and looked at her with a dull curiosity. Ani could read the concern on her face. “Don’t worry, you’re safe here. You might even get some sleep if you want.” The boy in the bunk rolled away from them and settled back into his nap. She sat gingerly on the bunk. It was hard, basically just canvas stretched between two side poles. The “pillow” looked like little more than cotton batting. “I’m sorry it isn’t more comfortable. But you’ll be safe here. I’ll be back before dinner or when your friends come.” He nodded and left.

Wade looked over at the sleeping boy, then around at the spartan room. She could only assume this was where the male prostitutes slept when they weren’t working, and this was Ani’s bunk. It was certainly grim. She sat for a while, thinking about nothing in particular, then stretched out. She was asleep before she realized it.

When Wade awoke, the boy in the other bunk was gone. She glanced at her watch. She’d been asleep for an hour or so, and it was approaching 2:30. She wondered where the others were. She hoped Opah had kept his word and stayed outside Diehdan’s father’s shop to get word to them. Any number of things could have gone wrong. She didn’t know what she was going to do if one of the others didn’t come for her by nightfall. She knew she didn’t want to be out at night in this town. She also knew she didn’t particularly want to spend the night in a brothel.

After thinking for a while about all the things that could have gone wrong, she once again accepted the fact that for the moment there was nothing she could do about any of it. She sat up and looked up at the window, which was filtering in a soft light that filled the room. It was enough to read by. She pulled her journal from her jacket pocket. She hadn’t written anything about this world yet. This was the perfect opportunity. She pulled out a pen and began to write.

Seven pages and an hour later, she stopped and reread what she’d written. It was good enough for now. She flexed her hand, then put her pen away. She looked around the empty room, then back at her watch. All the thoughts about what should have been happening but weren’t came back, but she could push them aside easily for the moment. She leaned back on the inadequate pillow and thought about the brothel. It was certainly a lot less interesting than she’d expected. She’d never given them much thought, but somehow this seemed so, well, pedestrian. Making sex a business just like any other certainly took a lot of the intrigue out of it. You comes in, you pays your money, you gets what you wants, and you goes on your way. There was always that idea behind prostitution that giving the sexually hyperactive an outlet would reduce other crimes and alleviate problems with teen pregnancy and such. The slavery issue was unconscionable, of course, but if all other things were equal, maybe the debate over the absurdity of consensual crimes had some merit.

She sat up. What was she thinking? Rembrandt and the Professor had warned them that the way of life here could be very contagious. Was she actually thinking that prostitution might not be a bad thing? It was human trafficking, for God’s sake. She needed some air. She looked at the door. It seemed quiet enough out there. Maybe a little walk around would be okay. She’d just stay out of the public areas. She opened the door, and no one was in sight. Hesitantly, she stepped out into the hallway. She could hear no one in the area. It must be a slow time of the day, she concluded.

She strolled down the halls, trying to remember all the twists and turns so she could find her way back. When she heard voices, she took another hallway.

Eventually, she found herself in a hallway like one she’d passed through with Ani early in the day. Doors two by two lined both sides of the hall. She heard no sound, and every other door was open, so she decided to take a look around. When she walked past the first open door, she glanced inside but saw no one. In the second open room, she saw a maid changing the sheets, and when the woman offered her a slight nod and smile, Wade realized everyone in the place probably knew about her—everyone except the absent Abneer, of course. She nodded back and continued on her way.

She’d never really thought about brothel architecture before, but she was struck with how light and airy the place felt. Considering this place made its fortune from the night trade and indoor activities, there was a surprising amount of light and open space. There was no glass on the windows, only shutters, but they were all open to catch the afternoon sun’s warmth. She stopped by another open door, this to a bright, west-facing room, and, with a glance around, she went inside.

It was decorated simply, the bed of course being the center of attention. The room also contained a chair and table—she didn’t even want to think about why they were in the room and what possible use they might have been pressed into—and there were several gauzy draperies hanging on the side walls. But in spite of the fact that she thought the room would be musty, or at least smell of a variety of human odors, it was bright and sunny, the large, open window letting in a cleansing breeze as well as the warm sun. She smiled to herself. It was kind of nice, actually.

Laughter from outside the window caught her ear, and she ambled over to investigate. The window looked down on an interior courtyard, and in the center was a fountain with what looked like the kind of open-air showers found at the beach back home. But the miracle of something akin to modern plumbing wasn’t what caught her breath as she leaned down on the sill—it was the site of Ani and Bradur showering in the golden afternoon light.

From her vantage point, she was afforded an excellent view of the two. But after a glance at the other boy, she found herself regarding Ani with rapt attention. It was fascinating to see how similar he was to Quinn, and yet so different in a lot of ways. Ani was more muscular, in a nice way. It made sense, of course, as his livelihood depended on his body, whereas Quinn, despite his love of sports, spent so much of his life in his head.

There was also an ease, a comfortableness about Ani that she noticed as she watched him reach over and toss a towel to Bradur with some joking comment that she couldn’t hear. He was so comfortable with himself, even being naked out here in broad daylight. He exuded confidence, something she couldn’t say about Quinn. Well, no, that wasn’t true. Quinn had been confident like that, back home, before the sliding began. He’d been so enthusiastic, full of self-assurance without being full of himself. He might be a little cocky sometimes, but it came from his natural optimism and his faith in his talents, not arrogance, and she had always found that rather charming.

But as she looked at his double in the courtyard below, she thought all the slides had taken so much out of Quinn. She knew Quinn felt guilty about getting all of them marooned on this endless journey. And as things happened to them on the slides and they seemed to be getting further away from home, it seemed to her that he was losing that spark of innocent confidence that had attracted her to him in the first place. She thought about Quinn, and wondered again where the others were. She hoped they were safe and that Opah had forgiven her rudeness to him and passed on the message as instructed.

One other difference between Quinn and Ani became apparent to her as she watched him turn off the shower and reach for a towel. Ani wasn’t circumcised. She knew Quinn was; as modest as they’d all tried to be on the Earth without clothes, she’d learned that much about him. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember ever seeing an uncircumcised man before. Bradur had his towel wrapped around his waist now so she couldn’t compare, but she was pretty sure he wasn’t circumcised, either. She tried to remember when that practice had been introduced in the Bible, but she couldn’t remember.

As her thoughts rambled through her memories, her mind didn’t register what her eyes were seeing when she noticed Bradur chuckle and say something to Ani, then gesture in her direction. It wasn’t until she saw Ani looking at her that she realized that she’d been staring—and she’d been caught. He nodded and smiled, holding the towel before him as he paused in drying his arms but not particularly covering himself. She blushed and disappeared back into the room, and their laughter followed her. Oh, God, how was she going to face him again? She hurried back to the sanctuary of Ani’s bedroom.

About five minutes later he showed up, freshly toweled off from his shower and in yet another set of clothes. He was trying to hide an impish smile, but he was only partially succeeding. As she sat up a little too straight on his bunk, she was making a valiant attempt to appear casual, although she didn’t look him in the eye. He asked, “I was surprised to see you outside the room. Were you afraid, or bored, or...something?”

“Bored,” she said, glancing around him but not actually looking him in the eye.

Even without looking at him directly, she could see his smile. “There’s no need for you to be embarrassed.”

“Look, I want you to know I wasn’t actually staring. I mean, my eyes were looking at you, but my mind was someplace else.”

His pout was just a bit too coy to be believable. “That’s bad. I must be losing my appeal.”

She looked at him, then when she saw his pout spread into a radiant, laughing smile, she shook her head with embarrassment and put her hands over her face. He laughed, then sat on the bunk with her. “There is no reason to be embarrassed. It’s all right. And I checked with the matron before I came up here. No word yet from your friends.”

This wasn’t like them, and she frowned. “Something must be wrong.”

“If they’re still free, they’re probably looking for you. My guess is Diehdan is using you as a hostage with them, to get them to do what she wants.”

“But I’m not her hostage.”

“I can’t imagine she would admit that.”

For the first time, Wade realized that the situation was undoubtedly a lot more complicated than she’d thought. Of course they would be out looking for her, and they might not even return to the shop. Hiding in here all day was the worst possible thing she could have done. She should have gone straight back to the shop regardless of Diehdan and collected the others and gotten the heck out of there. But now, who knew if they’d be able to find each other in time? Her heart sank.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “If they don’t return before sunset, we’ll look for them tonight, and then tomorrow morning.”

“But I thought you said slaves can’t go outside at night without their owners.”

“There are always ways to get around things.”

She appreciated his optimism, but she had to face the fact that this had suddenly turned into a disaster. She knew Rembrandt’s determination to get over to Sodom to find Lot would complicate their efforts to find her. She wouldn’t want them to stay behind just for her, but she knew that was a possibility. Time and the timer waited for no one. Her guess was if they didn’t rendezvous within twenty-four hours, she’d be here for the rest of her life—which might not be all that long, if Rembrandt was right. How many of the other three would die here with her? Oh, God. How had this become so awful?

Ani read the anxiety on her face and reassured her, “Wade, it will be all right. If we don’t find them tonight, you can stay here until they come for you. When Abneer comes back, I have enough money saved that you can stay with some people I know.”

“No.” she said agitatedly. “Look, you don’t understand. I don’t have a lot of time. I’ve only got one day. After that, everything’s going to go to hell.” Her mind began to race in several directions at once. If twenty-four hours passed and they didn’t show up, should she try to get to Sodom on her own in spite of the dangers? Or should she simply give up and head for the hills to escape the destruction? Should she try to convince Ani to come with her? How would she do that? And if she did, would that make things more dangerous because then Abneer as well as Diehdan would be looking for her? No, as daunting as the prospect was, if the others didn’t find her by the next afternoon, she would have to find her way to Sodom and find Lot by herself. That was her only chance for a rendezvous with the others.

He could see her chewing on this dilemma and tried a consoling pat on her hand. “Wade, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

She stood up, fighting her growing panic. “Ani, I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But you don’t understand. You can’t understand.”

“I can try.”

She looked at him. She knew better than to blame him, but this had been his idea and it had backfired. Her unfocused anxiety found a target, and it surged out harshly. “All right. Since you really want to know. My friends and I are from a parallel dimension, a completely different Earth. America isn’t some far off distant country. It’s right here, this exact spot, in a different reality. We slid in here by accident. We can’t control when we leave or where we go. At dawn two days from now we’re going to have a one-minute window of opportunity to slide out of here or be stuck for twenty-nine years. And if my friend Rembrandt is right, it won’t be twenty-nine years because we’ll all be killed when this place goes up in flames because you guys have pissed off God and He’s going to smite you.” She stood opposite him, her hands on her hips. She regretted her outburst, but it was said now and she’d have to live with it. She waited for his reply, wondering what he’d make of her ramblings.

He looked at her for a long moment, his gaze solid and unfathomable. “At least this time you said the story as if you believed it.”

She said quietly, “The only thing I’m not too firm on is the smiting part.”

“This is why you asked me about buying my freedom or running away. You think Abraham’s god is going to destroy us. And you don’t want me to be killed.”

“Yes.”

“What did we do to make him so angry with us?”

She muttered without thinking, “What haven’t you done?”

She saw him rankle a bit at that, and she was sorry for her thoughtless words. He stood slowly. “I have little faith in Baal, or Dagan, or Asherah, or any of the other Plains gods. They have power, but very little wisdom. Abraham won an astonishing victory over the Four Kings against all odds. Perhaps his god is both powerful and wise. But I see no reason why he should be angry with us. Is Abraham’s god—your god—going to destroy America, too?”

“Maybe our day will come later, but no, just Sodom and Gomorrah.”

“Why us and no one else?”

There was something so annoyingly uncomprehending in his face that rubbed her the wrong way, and she could feel her temper slip from her grasp. “Are you kidding? This place is a hellhole. It’s full of liars, and cheats, and heartless people like all those people who saw me being kidnapped and didn’t bother to help me, and thieves like your cook who steals some of the change from your market money, and sadistic maniacs like Diehdan. The only half-way decent people I’ve met around here are prostitutes.” The last word had come out with a snide edge that she hadn’t intended, and she knew she’d done some serious damage when she saw Ani stand a little straighter and narrow his gaze on her.

“Are prostitutes so reviled in America?”

She couldn’t look him in the eye, but neither could she back down. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“They’re not here.”

“I know. That’s part of the problem.”

His eyes narrowed further, and his jaw tightened. “Do you revile me?”

“No.”

“But you revile what I do.” After a bit of hesitation, she nodded. “Do you think your god should destroy me?”

“Well, obviously not, if I want you to run away.”

“No, not do you want him to—do you think he should?”

She pondered the distinction, and it took her a moment to formulate an honest answer. “I don’t want God to destroy anyone. ...But I think it’s already too late.”

He obviously read more into her answer than she meant to put in, as he stepped away and turned his back to her. “So your god is going to destroy us simply for being who we are, and there’s nothing to be done about it.”

It was past time for diplomacy. “Ani, you’ve lost your perspective. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to live in a place where people are honest, where everyone isn’t out to rob and cheat everyone else, where they’re nice to each other because they want to be, not because they want something. You came in here willingly, and for an unselfish reason, but I think being here and living this life’s turned you around a little bit.”

His patience snapped and he whirled on her. “All right. You win. Where you come from is perfect. You’re perfect. I’m not. But this was the only chance we had to survive. And given the choice between me going in, and getting a good price so my mother could go back to Salem and live in comfort, and I’d be in a place where I’d be safe, and I’d be taken care of and well-fed—or the choice of me leaving and my mother going in, and not getting a good price because she was too old, and me still having to scramble for money, and my mother probably ending up in the kind of place where they put oiled cloth on the foot of the beds so the men don’t even have to take off their muddy boots—I think I made the right choice. Now you’ll excuse me. I have to go back to work.” He stormed out of the room as her shame burned crimson on her face.


	4. Chapter 4

Quinn retraced the entire way between the lower slave market and half a block to Diehdan’s shop. There was no trace of Wade or what had happened to her. He looked at his watch. It was just after 4:00 p.m. The sun would be going down about 7:00. From a safe distance, he looked at the front of the shop. There was no sign of Diehdan, and there was no indication of anything out of the ordinary going on in the shop. He realized that wherever she had Wade stashed, it was secure enough for her not to worry about it. He brushed back his hair in frustration, pulling hard enough to make it hurt. How was he ever going to forgive himself for getting her into this mess? ...She could be dead. God, he was never going to forgive himself for this.

He stopped as he saw Diehdan appear on the front porch of the store. She saw a teenage boy sitting on the step and ordered him to leave. He scurried away. She looked around, then up at the sun, then, after another glance around the street, went back inside.

He snapped out of his trance. He was wasting precious minutes. He turned and jogged down the first side street, stopping to ask the first shopkeeper if he’d seen Wade.

Rembrandt and Arturo looked silently at the ferry dock at the end of the street below them. A ferry was about fifteen minutes out and heading across the Golden Gate—or Pillars of Baal, as they had gathered the local name was—to Sodom, so they knew they were in the right place. Neither wanted to get on the ferry that had just arrived from across the way, but neither wanted to admit that they were already very late. As it was, given how slowly the ferries seemed to move, they would be arriving in Sodom after dark, and that would undoubtedly not be a good thing.

As Rembrandt gazed at the large boat, his resolve failed. “This isn’t right. I can’t go. I can’t leave her here.”

“At the risk of turning into the voice of conscience on this slide,” Arturo said, “I believe we must go. If Quinn has found her, they’ll be going over there to meet us. If we’re not where we said we would be, they might foolishly be tempted to come back to look for us, and we’d spend all of our time and energy traveling back and forth looking for each other.” He looked at the crowd streaming off the ferry. “I’m afraid at this point we have no choice.”

They regarded the boat. If the sign above the dock gave the departure information, they had no way of deciphering it. But there seemed to be no hurry among the waiting crowd as the passengers debarked. A few people were milling around, but there was nothing about them or the ferry’s crew that spoke of urgency. Arturo scanned the distance across the mouth of the bay towards the departing ferry and beyond. He thought he could see another ferry just off the far shore, but he couldn’t tell if it was arriving or leaving. In this world without clocks, it would probably be a fairly safe assumption that the next ferry wouldn’t leave until it was somewhat full. His estimate—which he admitted to himself was probably more of a wild guess—was they had at least an hour before the ferry departed. They could satisfy their consciences with a few forays around this neighborhood before they committed to leaving.

“I think we have some time before this boat leaves,” he said. “Let’s say we give one last good look around for her before we leave, eh?”

“I’d like that, Professor, thanks.”

At the same moment, both of them noticed a man watching them from about ten feet away. He glanced around warily, then approached a few steps, still keeping a discrete distance. “...You’re looking for a woman, aren’t you?” He glanced around again. He looked thoroughly disreputable, just the type of person to know Diehdan’s business.

“Yes,” Rembrandt offered eagerly. He held his hand up to Wade’s height. “About so tall, short dark hair—”

The man nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes!” he said in an urgent whisper as he took another step closer. “I’ve seen her. I wondered what a stranger was doing in this part of town.”

“Do you know where she is?” Arturo demanded.

“Yes. And the people she’s with, they’re not good people at all. For a small reward, I’ll show you where she is.”

“Yes,” Arturo said, “take us to her immediately.”

The man glanced around again, then nodded for them to follow. He turned and headed down a dark and narrow alley. Arturo and Rembrandt shared a glance of mixed fear and hope, then followed.

The mysterious man led them down one narrow alley after another, at first keeping up a reassuring banter about finding her but then simply leading the way in silence. This part of town looked decidedly seedy, and the further they went, the worse it was getting. Both men felt deep twinges of dread over what might have befallen Wade in such a place, but this eventually faded into a dread of another kind. The further they traveled, the more this was beginning to feel like a setup.

Rembrandt shook his head as he said quietly to Arturo, “This isn’t right. This isn’t right at all.”

“I agree with you,” Arturo said in a low voice. The man looked back at them, and Arturo offered a benign nod. The man nodded and continued down the alley. “I believe this is about to get very bad.”

“I blew it, man. I told him everything he needed to know to fool us. Talk about a couple of marks.”

“Forgive yourself, Mr. Brown. I imagine this fellow is quite experienced at this. Once he got our attention, he would have had us, one way or another.” Arturo assessed the situation quickly. At any moment they might be set upon by this man or his waiting comrades. Their only hope was to turn the tables on him as quickly as possible. He put his hands in his jacket pockets. The only thing he had that could pass for a weapon was his Swiss Army knife. In a fair fight, he’d be doomed. But who said he had to fight fair? He gripped the knife in his pocket and managed to push open the largest blade using one hand.

The man glanced over his shoulder with a smile. “We’re almost there.”

“Excellent,” Arturo said with a thin smile, then eyed the path ahead. They were approaching what looked like a dead end. One step ahead of him on the left was a small recessed area. It was empty, save for a few closed doors and some trash and tattered, abandoned clothing on the ground. It was time.

Arturo stopped abruptly at the mouth of the recessed area and stared at some trash on the ground. “My goodness, look at this! Twenty pims!”

Rembrandt stared at him, then understood that something was up and said in an uncertain voice, “Wow, look at that.”

The man spun around and started examining the pile of trash at Arturo’s feet. “Where? I don’t see it.”

In a flash Arturo had his knife out of his pocket and an arm around the man’s throat as he dragged him back into the recessed area. Rembrandt stepped in and blocked the view, glancing behind to make sure no one else was in the alley.

Pressing the point of the blade against the man’s jugular, Arturo said in a harsh whisper, “Tell me the truth, or not even your best friend will know what happened to you.” Trapped in Arturo’s grip, the frightened man gurgled something that sounded like assent. “Either you know where our friend is, or you don’t. If you do, tell us, and take us there, and I won’t kill you. If you don’t know where she is, tell us, and I may not kill you. But if you lie to me, I’ll cut your throat out of your neck and feed it to dogs in the street.” The man shuddered. Arturo said deliberately, “Do you know where she is?”

The man hesitated, and Arturo pushed the point of the blade in deeper. The man squealed. “No, by Asherah, I don’t!”

Arturo offered Rembrandt a cool glance. “Well, Mr. Brown, what shall we do with him? Shall we do to him what he was going to do to us?” The man fought against Arturo’s grip, but to no avail.

Rembrandt eyed the man coldly. “I say we just leave him here.” He glanced around at the trash at his feet and found an old rag. He stuffed it into the surprised man’s mouth.

They bound him hand and foot with strips of cloth ripped from the tattered clothing and left him in the corner of the recessed area. As the two turned to leave, the man raged mutedly through his gag. Arturo stopped and knelt before him. He took his Swiss Army knife from his pocket and opened it in front of the raging man’s face. The man stared at the mysterious weapon as Arturo said in gentle tones, “Please don’t make me cut out your tongue.” The man fell silent, and Arturo closed up the knife again slowly. “Thank you.” He stood, and he and Rembrandt disappeared back out into the alley.

They hurried out to the main street and looked around. No alarm had been sounded, and no one had apparently followed them. They shared a sigh of relief, and then they noticed that passengers were lining up below on the ferry dock. Without a word, they headed down the hill.

At the dock they found a rudimentary waiting area, and they did their best to blend in. They noticed more Olmecs in the crowd, most of them apparently being part of a single delegation of sorts. It became obvious that they were expecting—and getting—preferential treatment.

Arturo watched them with fascination, then said to Rembrandt quietly, “If indeed this is this Earth’s “Holy Land,” the parallels to our own are really quite striking. On our Earth, the Jews and Canaanites had to their south the powerful and dominant culture of Egypt, the pyramid builders. Here, apparently, it’s the Olmecs—who, on our Earth, also built pyramids. And yet the populations aren’t homogenous. I wonder where the Caucasians came from?” He looked at Rembrandt with an arch smile. “Atlantis, perhaps?” He laughed heartily at his joke.

The boarding call went out, and the haughty Olmecs were led on first and given the best seats under the canvas cover that stretched above the back half of the boat. Only after they were seated to their satisfaction were the others let on board. As Arturo and Rembrandt fell in the fast-moving line, they noticed the other passengers ahead of them were paying the man at the gate. “We’re in trouble,” Rembrandt said in a low voice. “We don’t have any money.” Before they knew it, they were before the gatekeeper, who was holding out his hand. They hesitated.

The gatekeeper snarled at them, “Pay or get out of the line.”

The two exchanged a glance.

The gatekeeper didn’t wait for their answer. He grabbed Rembrandt’s shoulder to push him out of the line.

Arturo snapped, “What are you doing, man?” He pushed the gatekeeper’s hand away, then dusted off Rembrandt’s shoulder placatingly. “Don’t you know who he is?”

The gatekeeper glared at him. “Get out of the line.”

Arturo reacted with high indignation. “My good man, you obviously have no idea to whom you’re speaking.” He gestured to Rembrandt with deference. “This is the Grand Vizier of California, sent here by the personal command of the king. He’s here on a special diplomatic mission to Sodom and Gomorrah to open trade negotiations.” Rembrandt blinked at the Professor, then tried to look as vizier-like as he could on such short notice.

The gatekeeper eyed him but wasn’t buying it. “Where’s your entourage?”

Arturo rolled his eyes with dismay, then leaned in and said in a low voice, “We’re on a confidential mission! Why on earth do you think we’d want to advertise his presence here during such delicate negotiations?” He punctuated his statement with a “I’m going to remember how rude you are” stare.

The man thought for a moment, glancing at the others in line behind them. The potential trouble obviously wasn’t worth the risk, and with a reluctant nod he waved them through. The two nodded with gratitude, then found seats near the Olmec delegation.

Arturo was letting out a pent-up breath when a teenage street urchin approached him, admiration radiating from his eyes. “Sir, do you need an apprentice?”

Arturo blinked with surprise. “No.”

“A servant? Anything. That was the best dupe I’ve ever seen. I’d do anything to learn from you.”

Arturo said mutedly, “No, I’m sorry.” Disappointed, the urchin left for the uncovered seats at the front of the ferry.

Arturo sat in a pensive silence as the last of the passengers got on board and the ferry pulled away from the dock. When he finally looked at Rembrandt, his face was crestfallen. “Mr. Brown, I owe you—and whatever forces you represent,” he added with a touch of an embarrassed smile, “—a very profound apology. You warned us about how the way of life here would be contagious. And while I agreed with you in principle, I foolishly thought I would be exempt. But I find that I have become Exhibit A from your lecture.” Rembrandt nodded sympathetically. Arturo continued with shamefaced reluctance, no longer able to look his companion in the eye: “On all the other worlds where we met my doubles who were, shall we say, less than upright citizens, I could always console myself with the idea that they’d been molded by their environments and I really had nothing in common with them beyond genetics. But after everything we just went through, complete with high praise for my con artist ability, I believe now that is not the case.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Professor,” Rembrandt said. “You only did what you did because you had to. We had no other way out.”

“Ah, but isn’t that how those things usually get started? A pavement of good intentions is spreading out before me.”

“At least you have the decency to be embarrassed about what you did. That’s the wonderful thing about God. If you’re truly sorry, He’ll forgive you.”

Arturo nodded with a small, grateful smile, then glanced at him. “You’re so very certain about all of this. I admire that. I don’t understand it, but I admire it.”

Rembrandt smiled. “Haven’t you ever believed in a higher power?”

“Perhaps, when I was a child.” His eyes grew wistful, then hard. “But when I lost my mother, and then my wife so cruelly and unnecessarily, and after so little time together, I left whatever faith I had behind.”

“Now all you believe in is science.”

“Science, and the general untrustworthiness of ‘fate.’”

“Yeah, well, I’m no righteous man of God myself. But, on this slide anyway, I know what I know. And I know we’re doing the right thing.”

Arturo gazed at him with appreciation. “Then we are very lucky to have you along.” They shared a smile, then turned their eyes towards the distant shore.

Wade sat alone in the boys’ dorm room and stared at her journal. She’d just finished four detailed pages of writing to take her mind off what she’d said to Ani and how miserable she felt. She’d stopped her writing only when the waning sunlight made it hard to see the pages. But as she reread what she’d written, she wanted to rip the pages out of the notebook. Talk about trite, and overdone, and turgid, and just plain apologetic. She’d put all of her emotions on the page, raw and unprocessed. There was no way she could ever let anyone else read this.

She started when the door opened slowly, but she only felt a bit of relief when she saw it was Ani. His anger was gone, and he asked in a quiet voice, “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” she said, slipping the notebook into her jacket pocket as she stood. “Look, Ani, I—”

“I’m sorry I was angry.”

“No, you were right to be angry with me. It was my fault. It isn’t fair for me to apply my value system and my way of life to you. You had reasons for everything you did. I was rude and thoughtless to forget that. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push your buttons.”

His brow furrowed. “What’s a ‘buttunse’?”

She blinked at him, then realized all over again how enormous the gap was between her world and his. Any vague notion she’d had about taking him along when they slid was dashed in a single word. He would never survive in a world that was anything this side of the Middle Bronze Age. She shrugged gently. “It’s just a saying.”

He smiled softly. “And I owe you an apology. I forgot about everything you’ve been through yesterday and today. And I should have been grateful that you cared enough to worry about what happens to me. I’ve forgotten what that’s like.”

They looked at each other, their apologies exchanged and accepted. Wade said with a sheepish smile, “Well, we both screwed up big time. Truce?” She held out her hand to shake.

He smiled. “Friends.” He took her hand and held it in his, and she realized he didn’t know what a handshake was. With a twinge of embarrassment, she withdrew her hand.

He read her reaction and didn’t pursue it. He said instead, “Business is very slow. We’re all but closed for the day. So, the evening is ours, and since Abneer is out of town, we’ve decided to have our own ‘festival.’ We’d be very pleased to have you join us.”

“What will this ‘festival’ be?” she said, her suspicion kicking in automatically.

“Music, some dancing perhaps. Nothing...embarrassing.” A teasing sparkle in his eye on that last word got a wry smile out of her.

“That would be nice, thanks.”

“After everything that’s happened to you today, you’d probably like a bath.”

That did sound good. “Hot water?”

“Hot. And lots of soap and a scrub brush. And a change of clothes.”

This was sounding better by the moment. “Sure, why not? ...But I’ll need my clothes handy in case my friends come for me.”

“Of course. And we’re still open for business, so the matron will keep an eye out for them.”

Ani led the way to a back area that resembled the shared bath in the hotel in New Yokohama—an alcove for showering next to an open area with five large wooden tubs for soaking about the size of hot tubs back home. Wade noticed that when Ani entered the room, there were three girls in various stages of undress as they were starting or finishing their baths, but none showed the least surprise or modesty when they came in. He introduced Wade to a girl named Rosmani and asked her to “take care of Wade.” Rosmani, who looked no older than Yasmi but shared her gaze of hardened wisdom, gave Ani an arched eyebrow and a knowing smile but agreed to the favor. She started to pull Wade’s jacket off, but Wade quickly protested at disrobing with Ani in the room. She saw the other girls’ shared smirks, but she didn’t care. Ani dutifully left with a promise to see her when she was done.

The girls gathered around Wade and peeled off her clothes. They found her reticence amusing, and they began to giggle at being with someone who could afford such a luxury as modesty. For her part, Wade put up with the attention well enough. This had more of a sisterhood feel to it than anything else, and she didn’t mind being entertaining to them as long as it didn’t get out of hand. The girls struggled a bit with some of her clothes—they were fascinated by the zipper on her jeans and she had to demonstrate how it worked about twenty times before their curiosity was satisfied, and her bra earned nearly five minutes of amazed scrutiny—but eventually Wade was ready for a scrub. To her shock, instead of handing her a bucket of water and a sponge, they took care of the scrub themselves. At first, she was aghast to have these strangers bathing her, but after her shock wore off, she had to admit the attention was rather flattering. She could begin to understand how the nobility in the old days used to demand this kind of thing. She saw one of the young girls from the house gather up her clothes and begin to take them away, but she quickly stopped her with, “No, don’t wash them. Leave those here. I want them handy.” The girl nodded, then folded them as best she could and set them on a stool.

Wade returned to enjoying her scrub, but after a bit she began to shiver. She was used to central heating, and even though it had been a warm day, this was still October. The girls chuckled at her gooseflesh. The chill took Wade’s mind off the luxury of the bath, and she said absently, “Do the customers come back here?” The girls shared a look of confusion and then laughed. Well, Wade thought, obviously not. This bathing of someone else was apparently out of the ordinary. It was probably a combination of boredom during the slow season and a favor to Ani.

They rinsed her off with a bucket of water over her head, then led her to a waiting tub. She settled into the hot water up to her chin and luxuriated in the steaming warmth. It was just the right amount of hot, and she wondered if they had a small fire under the tub to keep it so perfect. The girls left her to her soak, and she slouched in the water, her face just above the waterline. She loved hot tubs. If this only had a whirlpool, she’d be in water heaven. She chuckled to herself at the thought of telling the girls to gather around the edge of the tub and “everyone splash your feet.”

As the water worked on her, she thought about Ani and the others, and what the customers were missing out on here. Sex in hot tubs was all the rage back home. She wondered if anyone had ever thought about it here. Well, it probably wasn’t all that practical, as they’d have to keep changing the water or it would get really disgusting in a hurry. And given the rudimentary plumbing, changing the water and heating it up was undoubtedly a massive ordeal. She thought about sex in a hot tub, and she thought about Ani. She smiled when she realized she’d made that juxtaposition. It was a darn good thing her friends couldn’t see her right now. She moved her arms slowly through the hot water, then sighed with contentment. This was the life.

Quinn was just about ready to die. From a safe distance, he stared at the front of Diehdan’s father’s shop. He looked at the sun. It was about five minutes away from setting. There was no sign of Arturo and Rembrandt, so they hadn’t found Wade. They were probably in Sodom by now, looking for Lot or trying to find a safe place for the night. No, he was alone now. Finding Wade was up to him and him alone. And at this point there was only one way to find her—a way that couldn’t be trusted, but it was his only hope now. He looked at the shop. She probably wouldn’t kill him. But what other cruel things could she do? The cool deliberateness with which she’d disposed of Wade made him shudder. There was no telling what kind of tortures were awaiting him. He looked at the sun. Three minutes. Well, twelve hours and it would be over...he hoped. There was always the possibility that she wouldn’t let him leave at dawn. If she’d dragged Wade off to the slave market, there was every chance she’d try the same thing when she was done with him. He shuddered again. But what other choice did he have? None. This was his only hope for finding Wade. His chin sank as he took in a deep breath. He winced, then let the breath out slowly. With leaden steps, he headed for the shop.

As he approached the front porch, he noticed that she wasn’t out waiting for him. Well, there was probably no dignity in that. The porch was cleared of the displayed merchandise for the close of the day, and no one from the store was in view. Only a few passersby were around; it was time for all good Gomorrans to head for the safety of the indoors.

Quinn was ten steps from the porch when a young man stepped up in front of him. He had something of a slippery feel about him as he openly gawked, and Quinn winced in preparation for yet another sales pitch or beg for money.

“By Asherah,” the boy exclaimed, “if I had not seen you with my own eyes, I would not have believed it!”

As much as Quinn didn’t want to go inside the shop, he didn’t want this. “What?” he shot back impatiently as the boy marveled at him.

“Ani sent me.”

“Who’s Ani?”

The boy’s eyes lit up with a smile. “Your twin!”

This seemed important, but Quinn had learned to guard his responses in this town. “Why does he want me?”

The boy couldn’t get over the sight before him. “It’s remarkable! Indeed, I would have thought this was a prank if he hadn’t warned me.”

Quinn stated firmly with fading patience, “What does Ani want?”

“Your friend Wade is with him.”

Quinn grabbed Opah’s shoulders. “What!? Wade? Where is she?”

“She’s in the House of Abneer. Ani rescued her from Diehdan this morning.”

Rescued? Thank God! But Quinn didn’t like the sound of the rest of that. “The House of Abneer? Isn’t that a...” He couldn’t say the word.

The boy could. “A brothel. Near the temple of Anat. Very well located.”

Quinn really didn’t like the sound of that. “Is she all right? Nothing’s happened to her, has it?”

Before the boy could answer, a disdainful voice caught Quinn’s attention. “There you are. I thought you’d abandoned me. And your friend.”

He looked up to see Diehdan standing hands on hips at the top of the steps. The iron look in her eyes gave him every indication that her plans for the evening would not be kind.

Quinn looked at Opah. God, what could he do? If he left with this boy for the House of Abneer, Diehdan would undoubtedly follow them and make any sort of escape to Sodom impossible. But he couldn’t let the boy leave. He needed to buy a few minutes’ freedom from Diehdan’s watchful gaze without tipping her off. Quinn took his hands off Opah’s shoulders. “Okay, okay, look, just hang on, okay?” he said, pointing firmly at the boy. “Just hang on.” He steeled himself, then turned and went up the steps to Diehdan. She turned and led the way into the store.

Opah frowned as the two disappeared through the door. What kind of indignity was this? He thought this man with Ani’s face would be glad to have this news, but for his trouble all he’d received was some strange insult. Well, his errand was completed, and as far as he was concerned this man could stay with Diehdan just as long as he wanted. Opah turned and left.

His mind racing, Quinn followed Diehdan into the store as she led the way to the back. If Ani had “rescued” Wade, did Diehdan even know where she was? He understood completely now that her ace in the hole was really a bluff, and she had no intention of telling him anything in the morning. “Look, Diehdan, I need a few more minutes.”

She didn’t look back at him as she kept walking. “‘Minutes’?”

“Just a short amount of time.”

“It’s past sunset. You have no time left.”

He stopped. “No, you don’t understand.” She stopped and glared at him, poison in her eyes. Whatever excuse he could come up with had to be strong enough to withstand the withering intensity of her gaze. “...Where I come from...we have this ritual we do...before sex. ...I have to relieve myself.”

“We have a pot.”

“No, you see, it’s, um, this ritual, I mean, um, everything has to go. So, there’re no distractions.” He shrugged innocently, trying to look like a prisoner of this impromptu ritual.

She pondered this icily for a moment, then turned back towards the room. “No. I don’t trust you. Come and use our pot.”

Quinn said urgently, “But I have to do this in private. I mean, I have to pray. For you to be there,” he gestured vaguely, “it would be a sacrilege. You don’t want to start things off that way.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Where are you going to do this?”

“Right out back. Out the front door and just around in back. Five minutes. ...Maybe ten.” She didn’t like this, it was obvious. He had to reassure her she was still in control. He looked at her seriously. “I can’t run away, Diehdan. If I do, you’ll never tell me where Wade is.”

Reluctantly, she acquiesced. “All right. But take our pot with you. I don’t want a stinking mess in the alley.”

He followed her to the doorway of the room, and as she stepped inside to fetch the pot, Quinn was stunned to see three other young women inside, waiting. In the center of the room was a mattress on the floor, with what looked like ropes and other nasty implements lying around, ready for use. The women looked at him with anticipation. Quinn shuddered. Diehdan picked up a covered pot and thrust it into his hands. “Don’t keep us waiting. Or else Wade will be waiting for you forever.” He nodded and hurried away.

Quinn stepped out on the front porch. The boy was gone. “Oh, no.” He stepped down into the street and looked around, but he was nowhere in sight. Quinn put the chamber pot on the bottom step and ran.

He scanned the faces in the thinning crowd on the street, but the boy had disappeared. What had he said? The House of Abneer. Quinn knew they had passed the place on their way into the city yesterday. That meant it was somewhere off to the right. But with all the streets he’d wandered down today, he couldn’t remember exactly how to get there. Well, he could always ask someone for directions.

He was nearly out of sight of the shop when a shriek of anger erupted behind him, followed by a string of curses. From behind the post of a closed vendor stall, he turned to see Diehdan standing on the front step of her store, staring down at the abandoned chamber pot and then looking around frantically at the few people on the street. She shouted at some passing soldiers, but Quinn didn’t stick around to hear what she said to them. He didn’t need to. So much for his five-minute head start. He slipped down a narrow alley as the soldiers ran past, looking for him. He looked down to where the alley led. At least it wasn’t a dead end. It curved around in the wrong direction, but he could find the House of Abneer later. First he had to ditch those soldiers, and any others that Diehdan might send out searching for him. He took off down the alley at a run.


	5. Chapter 5

The ferry finally reached the Sodom pier after dark. Arturo and Rembrandt watched the other passengers to have a sense of the expected behavior. The Olmec party was the first off the boat, and they were guided through the roofed waiting area by a man who had obviously been waiting for them. He led them to a waiting crowd of men milling around just beyond the building. A group of five men bowed, then gathered around the Olmecs like shepherds and drew out short swords in a defensive posture. The entire group headed out into the night.

As Arturo and Rembrandt debarked and walked through the waiting area, they saw that the rest of the waiting men were advertising themselves as bodyguards. The two exchanged a weary glance, then Arturo caught the eye of a man heading towards the pool of muscle for hire. “Excuse me, but are bodyguards really necessary here?”

The man gave Arturo a skeptical look. “You’ve never been to Sodom before, have you?”

“That’s very true.”

“Only people with a death wish go out on those streets after dark.” He gave them a quick onceover. “If you don’t have the money for bodyguards, I recommend staying here until daylight. It’s not much, but it’s better than being raped or murdered.” He went on his way.

Rembrandt said quietly, “Most things are.” The two looked at each other, then found room on a bench and settled in for the night.

Wade luxuriated in the calf-length caftan and cotton robe one of the bath girls had brought her after her soak. They were fine enough to be silk, and she wrapped the outer robe around herself tight and smiled. This was reminding her of the best aspects of New Yokohama, where she had fond memories of the _yukata_ that were handed out after baths. This was familiar as well as comfortable, and it was pleasing her more and more. When Ani came to fetch her to dinner, he too was fresh from a bath and wearing a caftan and an outer cotton robe that was left untied. This must be the evening relaxation apparel of choice, she thought. She also noticed that he didn’t walk straight in as he had before but from the doorway quietly asked one of the girls if Wade was dressed before he entered the bathing area. That brought a smile to her face, which she hid before he saw her.

“How was your bath?” he asked as he led the way down the hall.

“It was wonderful,” she said heartily. “I could have stayed in there all night. Too bad the customers don’t get to enjoy that. I hear making love in a hot tub is great.”

He frowned. “‘Making love’?”

She was suddenly embarrassed hearing him say the words. “Well, that’s what we call it when people who really like each other have sex.”

He pondered this for a few moments, then a small smile grew. “Making love. I like that.” His smile faded, and she realized he was being more serious than usual. She wondered what had happened.

“What’s the matter?”

“Opah came back,” he said.

“What happened?” she asked eagerly.

“I want you to hear this from him,” was all he’d say.

That didn’t sound good at all, and she was nearly beside herself by the time Ani presented her to her messenger at the end of the hall. “Opah, what happened? Did you see Quinn? Is he all right?” she asked agitatedly.

The boy gave her a distant frown. “I found your friend. He came back to Diehdan’s shop just before sunset.”

Of course, she thought, he was out looking for her all day. “And?”

“With Shapash as my witness, he was very rude. He shouted at me, he shook me, he insulted the House of Abneer, he told me to go hang myself on something, and he went into the shop with Diehdan when she came out for him. Very impatiently, I might add.”

Wade stared at him for several moments. “He went in with her?” she finally said, her anger flattening her voice.

“Yes. Apparently, there was some friend waiting for him.”

Wade simmered for a moment. Obviously, something had gotten lost in the translation here, but how could she misinterpret Quinn going into the shop with Diehdan? She looked at Opah seriously. “Did you hear Diehdan tell Quinn that I was the friend waiting inside?”

“No.”

“Did she say who the friend was?”

He shook his head. “No. But there was something in the way she said it that made me think it was a woman.”

Wade simmered a little deeper. That rat! What the hell was he doing with that scummy woman? There might be a logical explanation for all of this, but it was going to be _very_ interesting. She looked at Ani, who was concerned but obviously trying to stay out of it. To avoid her gaze, he glanced away towards Opah and scratched his beard innocently. Wade commented, “I can see why you didn’t want to be the one to tell me this.” She simmered deeper still. She could see through the open door at the end of the hall that it was evening now. There was no way she could go outside by herself. She was going to give Quinn holy hell the next time she saw him. Oh, yes, no doubt about it, he was in very, very deep trouble. Assuming he was going to show up in the morning—he’d have to, there was no way he’d abandon her completely—he was going to have _a lot_ of explaining to do. Going off to spend the evening with Diehdan, was he? Well, two could play at that game. She certainly wasn’t going anywhere until morning, and she might as well enjoy herself in her “captivity.” She looked at Ani with a determined glint in her eyes. “Well, I guess I’m all yours for tonight.”

He blinked at her, not sure how to take that statement. “Well, then, let’s have some dinner.” He started to walk away.

Wade turned to Opah. “Thank you for waiting all day. I really appreciate it. And I’m sorry Quinn was rude to you.” Her frown was deeper than she meant it to be. “I’m sorry for a lot of things.”

Opah smiled, then leaned in to her confidentially. “Believe me,” he said quietly, “I know his type. You’re a lot better off with Ani.” He nodded with another smile and walked down the hall.

She looked at Ani, who was smiling in spite of himself. When she met his gaze, suddenly his face was all innocence. “Hhm?”

“Yeah, right!” Wade shot back at him. “Like you didn’t hear what he said.” She glanced at where Opah had disappeared, then looked at Ani. “Geez! _Men!_ ” She knew her point was lost on her audience, but she felt a lot better for having said it. She looked at Ani again. “Dinner, huh?”

“And stories, and maybe some music, too,” he said as he led the way down the hall. “If we’re lucky Rosmani might even dance.”

“A real festival,” she said, as much to herself as to him. “Sounds good to me.”

He led the way to a large social room lit by glowing lamplight where most of the others had already gathered. The “festival” had already begun, as everyone was enjoying a fine spread of food and wine. Animated conversations were taking place all around as Wade and Ani helped themselves to the food. Bradur stepped up next to Wade and gave her a friendly smile. “Thank you for being the excuse for all this.”

Wade tried not to blush. “I’m just here for the day, really, I don’t....”

Bradur gave her a friendly nudge. “Don’t worry. Just enjoy it while it lasts.” He returned to his group and started to eat.

Wade stood in silence for a moment. His statement was probably the official Gomorran motto. She saw Ani waiting for her and put her thoughts away.

They joined Bradur’s group and began to eat. Wade noticed a few slaves over in the corner who had a drum, a lyre, and something that looked a bit like an oboe. They were finishing their meal and it looked like they were discussing what to play. Music would be good, she thought, trying to get back into the festive atmosphere. She returned to the group’s conversation when she heard Ani say her name. “She’s from a place called America. Have any of you heard of it?”

The others thought, then shook their heads. One girl said, “Is it near the desert?”

Wade said, “No, it’s really far away.”

One boy across from her in the group nodded. Wade had been introduced to him during lunch, and she was pretty sure his name was Josana. He commented, “It must be on the other side of the desert, then.”

A girl Wade had also met during lunch—was her name Pidri?—frowned at him. “There’s nothing on the other side of the desert.” The annoyed tone in her voice said they’d had this conversation a number of times before. “You always act like you’ve been there and seen people and countries on the other side.”

His tone was half-annoyed, half-teasing. “So, have you been there? Have you seen that there is nothing there?”

Wade smiled to herself, then borrowed a line from the Professor: “Absence of evidence isn’t evidence of absence.” The others frowned at her quizzically, and she chuckled. “Sorry.”

Josana said to Wade, “If you’ve come from so far away, you must know if there are countries on the other side of the desert. I’ve heard stories of great beasts that move as one and form a giant snake that destroy everything in their path.” His eyes lit up with eagerness. “Have you seen such things?”

Wade didn’t know how to answer. She’d seen “Dances With Wolves”—was he talking about buffaloes? Then again, it would be better to stay out of their argument. “It sort of sounds familiar, but I don’t know. What about maps? Aren’t there maps of what’s on the other side of the desert?”

The boy eyed her skeptically. “Maps?”

“Maps,” she said. They were all looking at her quizzically. “You know, a map? A drawing of a place that shows where things are, and has everything marked with descriptions?”

Some of the others were marveling at her, while some were scowling. Pidri said to her with amazement, “You can read?”

Wade blinked. “Of course I can read.”

A wave of muted astonishment rippled through the room. Wade realized something unthinkable. “You mean none of you can read?”

After a moment of surprise, Bradur said, “How would we learn?”

Wade began to realize that probably very few people on this Earth could read. Was there even such a thing as a school here? Oops. How could she get out of this gracefully? “...Well, Abneer could have someone teach you.”

“Teach slaves to read?” Rosmani scoffed.

Wade replied, “Well, I’d think it would be in Abneer’s best interests to have well-educated slaves.”

Bradur said with a twinkle in his eye, “We’re very well educated in what it is he wants us to do.” Wade tried not to blush, and a few of the others chuckled at her reaction.

Ani explained to her quietly, “Unless it’s a manager or overseer, a slave who can read is dangerous. He might try to forge freedom documents or steal from his master. Besides, learning takes time, and owners never have that much time.”

Wade couldn’t believe that in this room full of intelligent young people she was the only one who could read. Bradur saw the disbelief on her face and asked quietly, “Can you write, too?” She nodded. Bradur marveled at this, then said quietly to the boy next to him, “I told you she was a princess.”

She tried not to laugh. “I’m not a princess.”

One of the other boys said with a bright smile, “Well, you’re as close to one as we’ll ever meet.”

Wade looked at Ani, who only beamed at her. She blushed, then covered her face to hide her embarrassed smile. The others laughed, and there were a few exclamations of “Princess Wade!” and bows towards her. Under her hands she laughed, and Ani laughed heartily at that. Ani clapped his hands twice, then gestured towards the slaves in the corner. “Music! Music! The princess wants music!” They picked up their instruments and began to play a lilting tune. Wade was grateful to have the attention drawn away from her, and she was especially happy to see the others goad Rosmani to the point where she got up and began to dance.

Her dance was sultry and energetic, and she obviously enjoyed performing for her favorite audience. Wade didn’t know how to describe the dance—it had the exotic fluidity of belly dancing without the industrial strength torque—but she marveled at Rosmani’s grace and found her movements almost hypnotic. The others were appreciating her as well, and another girl got up to dance with her, to the delight of the group. They stepped and swayed in rhythm with the music, and when Wade looked around at the happy faces of the others, she remembered the grim barrenness of the bedroom Ani shared and realized this was probably the only entertainment they ever had, and it was all the more precious because it must be so rare. Abneer didn’t seem like the type to go for morale building through regular staff parties.

The next thing Wade knew the second girl was standing in front of her, holding out her hands to pull Wade up to join in the dance. “No, no, no,” Wade stammered, but the group would not be denied. To the calls of approval from the others, Wade reluctantly let herself be pulled to her feet. With a broad smile, the girl began to dance in front of Wade to show her how it was done. Wade raised her arms to match the girl’s lithe gestures, but at the first bend of her arm, she felt like a clunking idiot and turned to hurry back to the safety of her chair. But calls of disappointment followed her, and the girl caught the sleeve of Wade’s robe and pulled her back out. After a moment of debate, Wade sighed. What the heck? This was as good a way as any to prove she wasn’t a princess. With a sly smile, the girl beckoned her again to follow her gestures. Wade tried to mimic her, with more success this time. She wondered if the wine had just kicked in. Actually, she thought as she followed the girl’s twirling gesture, this was rather fun.

With the haunting music in her ears and all eyes on her, in the soft, golden light of the room, Wade finally surrendered to the rhythms of the dance and let go. She turned and swayed, floating in her own steps as much as she was imitating the others. On one slow spin she caught Ani’s radiant gaze at her. She turned away and closed her eyes as she smiled in the pleasure of the moment. Then others from the group were up and dancing with them, and the room was filled with the joy and freedom of the dance. The cares of the world were forgotten as the music and the dance drifted through and around them and lifted them up to a dreamy serenity.

The moment seemed to float into forever, but then the music ended and the dream slipped away. Wade opened her eyes and came back to herself. Once again she was standing in the middle of a room full of people she didn’t know, and feeling very self-conscious about it. She quietly ducked back to her seat and hoped no one would tease her about her dancing. But the musicians began to play another song, and Wade was forgotten. The sultry dance had worked its magic on several of the dancers, and Rosmani began to sway provocatively in front of Josana. Her open arms and swaying hips were making an unmistakable offer to him, and it was an offer he did not refuse. He gestured to her, and soon she was on his lap, straddling him and kissing him passionately. Those around them were watching with appreciation, and several moved closer to be a part of the action. Around the room several pairs of girls turned to each other and embraced amorously. Wade stared at the sight for a moment, then looked away. This had gotten real serious real fast. Getting out seemed like a very good idea.

She jumped when she felt Ani’s hand on her arm. But he was only getting her attention. He signaled her to follow him as he stood. “Let’s get some fresh air.” Without a moment of hesitation, she was on her feet and out the door with him.

As he walked down the hallway he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think that would happen. I didn’t mean for you to be embarrassed.”

“Well, that’s okay,” she said, chagrined now at her lack of nerve. “It was just kind of a surprise.”

Behind them the music stopped, and they looked at each other. Wade could only assume that things had gotten _very_ serious in there. She had no idea what to say.

Ani saw her consternation and said easily, “Let’s go ask the matron if anyone’s asked for you.”

He led the way to the front door, where a cronish woman was sitting on a stool, obviously bored. She nodded to Ani. “What’s going on in there?” she said with a lurid wink.

“They’re practicing their skills,” he said with a knowing smile.

She erupted with a raucous laugh. “Practicing! When the cat is on the street, the mice in the house will frolic!”

“Just so long as the cat doesn’t find out,” he said to her significantly. Wade figured that with their version of “when the cat’s away” they were talking about Abneer.

The woman gave him another wink. “He shall never hear of it from me, dear one. And I know you’re here to ask about her friends, but no one has come by for her. In fact, almost no one has come by at all. Curse this time of year,” she lamented. She eyed Wade keenly. “So, my fine girl, what are you doing to thank Ani for all of his hospitality?”

Wade had no idea how to reply to that, and stammered a bit. Ani smiled and put a friendly hand on her shoulder as he said to the matron, “Her smile is payment enough.”

The woman cackled at that. “Go, you two! Such a charmer you are!” She laughed some more as Ani went back inside with Wade beside him.

Wade knew that the matron’s comment had simply been a bit of teasing, but it did bring up a good point. Under the circumstances, maybe it was a good idea if she retired for the evening...wherever it was she was going to be staying. Preferably someplace far away from the “practice” session. She yawned, then said, “I think I’d like to go to bed” in her least come-hither voice.

He nodded, then went to a cupboard at the side of the hall and found a half-used candle in a rough candleholder. He lit the candle on one of the wall lamps as he said, “There are some rooms on the other side of the building that are almost never used. I think you should stay there.”

That sounded good to her, and she went with him as he headed for the back of the building.

Quinn shivered in a dark alley as the chill of the evening descended on him. He’d had two narrow escapes from soldiers looking for him, and despite his efforts to double back and find the House of Abneer, he’d been driven in the wrong direction. From the safety of a darkened doorway, he watched the group of three soldiers pass by the mouth of the alley ten feet away. Damn. How was he supposed to get through? Damn, damn, damn. This alley was a dead end, so he could only wait in his hiding place until he knew the soldiers were out of sight and then try to make a break for it down the street. He stepped cautiously up to the mouth of the alley, then glanced both ways. No one was around. He took a few tentative steps out into the street, then headed off to the left, away from the soldiers and maybe—maybe—in the direction of the House of Abneer.

Suddenly before him was an old woman whose hard life was written on her face. A bony, outstretched hand reached for him. “Want a warm bed and good company? Only one beka.”

In spite of himself, Quinn winced at her offer. “No, thank you.”

“Both of my daughters, for the whole night, only one pim.” The woman stepped closer, pressing her point.

“Look, I said no.”

“They’re very beautiful. And talented. The priestesses of Kadesh can do no better.” She was closer still, her hand reaching for his jacket.

“No,” he said firmly. “No means no.”

Suddenly there was a flash in her other hand and Quinn jumped back in surprise as she deftly swung a knife towards his stomach. “I’ll have your money either way!” A second slash of her knife missed his jacket by less than an inch.

“Hey!” he shouted. As she swung back for a third strike, he punched her wrist and the knife popped from her grasp.

She shook her fist at him. “ _Thief!_ ” she shouted at the top of her voice. “ _Thief!_ Stealing from an old woman!”

He backed away in surprise, then when he saw someone appear in a doorway, he decided not to stick around to plead his case. He ran down the street to the sound of shouts behind him.

The lamps along the back halls of the brothel were unlit, and Ani’s candle was the only light as he and Wade passed through the winding corridors. The flickering of the candle cast eerie, dancing shadows on the ceiling and walls, and Wade was just as glad that Ani was escorting her through this spooky darkness. Finally, they reached their destination, and Ani opened the door for her.

Wade walked into the room, then let out an enthusiastic “Wow!” It was much plusher than anything else she’d seen in the place, with luxurious tapestries, a divan and several high-backed chairs covered with fine fabric, and brass and silver decorations scattered throughout the room. “What’s so special about this place?”

“It’s a private room for one of Abneer’s business friends,” Ani said as he closed the door. “He has private parties here for himself and his favorites.”

She took it all in. In the warmth of the candlelight, it looked especially inviting. This, she thought, was what a bordello was supposed to look like—except this was a bit more tasteful than she’d imagined. Maybe it was merely more exotic. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to stay in here? I mean, we’ve already pushed our luck pretty far. I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble.”

He moved across the room and set the candle down on the table at the side of the bed. “No, it’s all right. They won’t want it tonight. They always make arrangements ahead of time so we’ll be sure to have all the best food and wine available.”

She went to the window near the right side of the bed and opened the shutters. The crisp night air brushed her face, but it felt good after being in the stuffy room. She gazed out at the rooftops of the city. The nearly full moon was rising, painting the buildings and water beyond with broad strokes of silver and dark blue. This certainly was a pleasant place to spend the evening.

“What side of the bed do you want?”

Still enraptured by the moonlight, she answered absently, “The left side’s good.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him pull back the covers and fluff the plump feather pillow. He sniffed it, nodded with approval, then fluffed it again and put it back on the bed.

As her eyes adjusted to the night, she thought she could make out a few lights across the bay. “Is there a city over there?”

“Talan. That’s where I grew up.”

She regarded the distant shore. There were no more than four or five visible lights from this distance. “Is your house still there? Can you see the town from here in the—” She turned to look at him, then chopped off the end of her thought when she saw him pulling back the covers on the other side of the bed. “What are you doing?” she said flatly.

He picked up the pillow and sniffed it. “I’m staying here, too.”

“Excuse me?”

The pillow obviously passed his inspection, because he fluffed it and put it back down on the bed. “You can’t stay in this room alone.”

“Why not?”

He went over to one of the high-backed chairs. “There are no locks on the room doors. If some drunken customer came stumbling in here and found you alone, it could get very bad. But with me here, he wouldn’t bother you.” She wasn’t entirely buying this. He shook his head with a knowing smile as he took off his robe and draped it across the chair. “You’re safe with me. I would never make you do something you didn’t want to.”

The double-edged nature of his comment wasn’t lost on her. But after a look at the door to confirm that there was no lock, and then another hard, examining look at him, she realized he was probably right. She glanced down at her caftan and robe. Looking at Ani, she suddenly realized this wasn’t so much a caftan as it was a nightshirt. Oh, great. She’d been running around all evening in her pajamas. She was very sorry she didn’t have her own clothes with her now. She had to admit to herself that she probably wouldn’t be needing them to make a quick getaway, but it would have been reassuring to have them at hand.

He moved the chair over about two feet, flush against the tapestry on the wall. Then he sat on the right side of the bed. “Would you like the windows opened or closed?”

She looked at the newly-positioned chair. “Why did you move that?”

He glanced at it. “To block the viewing hole.” She stared at the chair’s high top. She hadn’t seen anything suspicious in the tapestry. “Just in case someone becomes curious.” He smiled slightly as she continued to stare at the wall. “Windows opened or closed?”

She came back to herself. She looked at the open window. “Open, but the moon’s too bright.” She looked at the shuttered windows above the head of the bed. “Is that all right with you?”

He nodded, then turned on the bed to close the double windows. He gazed down with a small smile, and she, slowly but deliberately, came around to the left side of the bed. She knelt at the head of the bed and looked out of the window. Below them was a small garden she hadn’t noticed before, enclosed by a waist-high wall. In the moonlight it looked enchanted. “Nice,” she said, then looked at the candle. “Do you mind if we leave that burning?”

He looked at it. “The moon is too bright, but you want to leave the candle burning.”

She didn’t want to explain that she found it reassuring to have a portable light handy, just in case she wanted to make a quick getaway. “The candle isn’t as bright as the moon.”

He looked at the candle again, then shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”

“I want,” she said, then, after a moment of hesitation, slipped off her robe and slid quickly into the bed. The mattress was soft and deep, and she nestled into the featherbed with appreciation. It was certainly a lot more comfortable than Ani’s bunk. No wonder he wanted to stay in here with her. Ani got into the bed beside her and settled in comfortably.

They lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, in the meeting grounds between the warm light of the candle filling the room from the left and the cool moonlight streaming in through the shutters behind them.

A few minutes went by, and Wade realized she wasn’t sleepy. She wasn’t particularly adept at these things, but from the angle of the rising moon, she thought perhaps it was only about 9:00 or 10:00 p.m. It was going to be a long night. She sighed.

“Is something the matter?” Ani asked.

“No. ...I’m just not tired.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you were. If you’d like to go back and join the others....”

“No, thanks.” She wasn’t sure she could imagine what was going on in there by this point. “I’m just...not sleepy.”

“If you’d like something, please let me know.”

“I will.”

“Wine, perhaps?”

“No, really, I’m fine.” What she really wanted was to brush her teeth, but there was no point in asking for a toothbrush.

She lay in the still of the room, examining the ceiling, wondering when she was going to get tired. She thought she heard footfalls down in the garden below the window, but she wasn’t sure. And anyway, who could resist a garden on so beautiful a moonlit night? Then there was another sound, perhaps a gentle rustling of leaves, she couldn’t be sure of that sound, either. But someone was definitely down there. She resisted the urge to look down there through the shutters and see who it was. She’d had enough trouble peeking out of windows for one day. There was another sound, another rustling. Then there was an unmistakable grunt and a woman’s moan of pleasure. Another grunt was followed by another moan. Someone was having sex right below their window. “Oh, my,” Wade said quietly.

“It’s Yasmi and a customer,” Ani said matter-of-factly. “During warm weather, she likes the wall down there.”

The surreality of all of this hit Wade once again. Here she was, sharing a bed in a brothel with Quinn’s Middle Bronze Age double from Sodom and Gomorrah as one of his fellow prostitutes was having sex for hire with a customer fifteen feet away from their bedroom window. She looked at the candle. Pinch me, she thought, this is too weird to be happening.

The sounds of pleasure increased below them. Wade was torn between trying to be blasé about it or saying something stupid just to fill the silence in their room. Yasmi let out another series of low moans. “Well,” Wade said quietly, hating the forced-casual sound of her voice, “she seems to be having a good time.”

“She’s pretending.”

His business-like disinterest was too much for her. “No way she’s faking.”

“She is.”

A groan spiked with a choking gurgle of pleasure flowed in through the window. “She can’t be. I mean, how can you tell?”

She could hear the hesitation even before he spoke. “...Because I know what she sounds like when she’s not ‘faking.’”

She rolled onto her side to look at him. “You’ve slept with her? I mean, you’ve had sex with her?”

“Quite a few times,” he said casually, rolling over to face her. “People pay to watch.”

Wade’s mouth fell open, but she quickly closed it. “You had sex with her...because someone hired you to.”

He nodded, then, even though his bearded face was very dark in the candle’s shadow, she could see him glance away. “The first time was...bad.” There was another exchange of grunts and groans from outside the window. “When we first come into the house, all the boys are carefully trained to make sure the customer is satisfied. And as I know you understand, most of the time we can’t ‘fake.’ But all the girls are trained not to be aroused by the customers.” Wade had never thought about that, but it made sense. “So, the first time we were hired to have sex for a customer, I was still new here and Yasmi and I didn’t have a chance to talk about what to do beforehand. ...So, it was my training competing with hers...and mine won.” Culminating cries of pleasure—some faked, some real—from both participants in the garden punctuated Ani’s comment. He shook his head slightly. “She was so mad at me. She wouldn’t talk to me for two days.”

A silence in the garden was followed by a quiet exchange of words and then footfalls away. Wade said, “But she forgave you.”

“Eventually.”

Wade looked at him, his face dark and unfathomable in the candle’s shadow. Part of her didn’t want to know, but she had to ask. She asked in a low voice, “Have you had sex with all the girls here?”

He nodded. “All the prostitutes.”

She blinked. “Including the boys?”

“Yes.” His answer was only a statement of fact, but she thought she heard a hint of something in his voice. Regret? Sadness? Resignation? She wasn’t sure.

“But only when you’re hired.”

“Yes. That’s the rule. The girls can do whatever they want, but we only have so much strength, so any sex we have that isn’t paid for is the same as stealing. Or so says Abneer.”

“But the others back in the room were....”

“Yes. Not everyone follows the rules.”

“I think you’re the _only_ one who does.” She saw his smile emerge from the shadows.

They lay in the silence for a while. She closed her eyes, but she didn’t turn away to make a serious effort to get to sleep. She noticed he didn’t turn away, either.

After another minute or so of silence, Ani said, “Tell me about Quinn.”

She opened her eyes to read his face, but the shadows hid any significant details that might have been there for her to interpret. “What do you want to know?”

“How did you meet him?”

“We worked in the same store.”

“You were servants together.”

She tried not to chuckle. “No, we weren’t servants. The pay was lousy, but we weren’t servants.”

“...So, the store was owned by your family or his family?”

“No, it wasn’t a family owned store. ...It was just a store.”

His silence indicated he didn’t understand. “What kind of store?”

“...It sold...writing equipment.”

“An entire store just for writing materials?” The amazement glowed in his voice. “America must be a very fine country indeed! I can’t imagine that.” He didn’t know the half of it, she thought. “What kind of person is he?”

“He’s a really nice guy. He’s funny, and he’s very caring about people, and he’s a good person. And he’s incredibly smart.” She heard him make a quiet scoffing noise. “What? He is.” Ani didn’t reply. “I mean, he’s a genius. He’s unbelievably smart.”

“I think he’s a fool.”

“What?”

Ani shifted up to lean on his elbow and gaze at her. Wade noted that it wasn’t a romantic advance pose—it was more of a slumber party pose. “If he doesn’t know how you feel about him, he’s a fool. If he does know and he does nothing about it, he’s an even bigger fool. I’d give my life to have a woman look at me the way you do when you’re thinking about him.”

He had said the words matter-of-factly, not as a come-on. But she didn’t know what to say. “Look, our relationship is really very complicated, and it’s hard to explain...so I’m not going to try.”

He put his head back on his pillow, still facing her. “How complicated can it be?”

“Well, it’s....” She really didn’t want to get into this, but she could tell he wasn’t going to leave it alone. “Well, Quinn, and Rembrandt, and Professor Arturo and I are on this journey. And we want to go home, but we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well, we’re sort of lost.”

“Surely someone in Gomorrah has heard of America and can direct you back.”

“I don’t think so.”

“One of the traders must have heard of it.” He put a reassuring hand on her forearm. It was another friendly gesture, but she quietly shifted her arm away, and he withdrew his hand.

“No. It’s very far away. ...And we may never get home again.” Her voice wavered with sudden emotion, and she tried to clamp down to keep it under control. “So we have to rely on each other. We need each other. And I’m not going to do something dumb to risk what we’ve got. I mean, they’re like my family.... Actually, they are my family now.” Wade thought of her parents. They had never felt so far away as they did at this moment. God, she wanted to go home so badly, she ached. A sudden tear spilled out of her eye, and she wiped it away quickly. But another followed, and then another. She covered her eyes with her hand, but before she could turn away, Ani’s arms were around her comfortingly. His calm reassurance gave her permission to let it out, all of it—the frightening unfamiliarity of this world, the delayed terror of her kidnapping, the agony of being lost from home for so long.

She cried for a while, glad for the release. It was a good cry, not deep but satisfying. She would never admit this weakness to her fellow Sliders, but to this stranger she could. It was so exhausting being strong all the time for the others. It was nice to let herself be human once in a while. She didn’t have to be strong for Ani. She didn’t need to reassure him that she was okay, that she would get through this part-adventure, part-nightmare in one piece. It was nice, just for once, simply to be Wade, human being, flawed and lonely and hurting a little.

When she was done with her tears, Ani reached up behind his head to the bed’s headpost and produced a soft, folded rag. He shook it open, then dabbed her wet face with it. She smiled. “Such a gentleman,” she said, hoping her face wasn’t red or puffy. He smiled, wiped the wet spot on his nightshirt below her face—this made her laugh lightly—then handed her the rag. She dried her face, then looked at the cloth. How had he known it was there, without even looking for it? She looked at the headpost behind him, then she remembered something from back home and her face fell. A friend in high school had once told her that her parents kept a “come rag” on their bed’s headboard to clean up afterwards and prevent those messy “wet spots.” She frowned at the cloth.

Ani chuckled, obviously reading her thoughts. “It’s all right. It’s clean.” She handed the cloth back to him anyway, and he chuckled again. One arm still around her, he tossed the cloth on top of his robe on the chair.

They lay there, his arms around her, and she wondered what would happen next. He seemed content merely holding her. That was fine. She had to admit to herself that she found this very nice, a pleasant way to spend some time. Not that she wanted him to get the wrong idea. This was pleasant in and of itself.

Her thoughts wandered, and she found herself wondering what it would be like having sex in a brothel. Heartless and cold, of course, under all the trappings. After all, it was just about the physical act. It had nothing to do with anyone’s emotional or even spiritual needs. A friend back in college used to go on and on about how sex was supposed to fill all of a person’s needs—spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical—and if it didn’t do all of those things, you shouldn’t do it. Certainly, none of her old boyfriends had tapped into her spiritual needs, and only one or two had strayed into the mental realm. She’d agreed with her friend in principle, and when she met Quinn, she wondered if he might be the one to reach all the way up into the spiritual domain. Quinn, yeah, right. Mr. Spiritual. For a moment she considered being fair to him, then she remembered where he was at that moment and decided against it.

And here was Ani. This big, handsome hunk of a man with all the training to help a woman forget about those pesky spiritual, mental and emotional needs. She wondered what it would be like having sex with him. He was undoubtedly very attentive, and willing to do whatever it took to satisfy the customer. The customer.... She couldn’t imagine what it was like having sex on demand with total strangers. It gave her the creeps just thinking about it. She shivered.

Ani’s arms tightened around her. “Are you cold? I’ll close the window.”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” Yes, she was fine. With him in this featherbed she was nice and toasty. Very nice, indeed. For the moment she was safe, away from the dangerous world out there. In here there were no public executions, no evil women trying to drag her off to the slave market. Of course, there was sex going on outside the window here, too. Well, heck, this was Gomorrah. Sex outside the window was probably promised in all the travel brochures. No, in here was just this man who was protecting her from all of that nastiness out there.

Her mind wandered back to what it might be like having sex with him. Not that she was going to. It was just easier to stay removed from all that, especially now. She didn’t even want to think about what kind of psychological tightrope she was dancing on here, snuggling in bed with the doppelganger of someone she liked more than she was willing to admit. Having sex with Ani would probably be a wonderful way to get even with Quinn for his recent aloofness. Not to mention abandoning her to go off with Diehdan for God only knew what reason. She might even get him out of her system, at least for a little while. Not that she would be having sex with Ani, of course.

But her mind wouldn’t stay away from that idea. Sex with Ani, sex with Quinn’s double, sex with...a prostitute. For all its heartless nature, there was one big advantage. It was his job. He would know what he was doing. No problems with her needing to please him. No concerns over whether her butt was too big. No emotional conflicts and back-and-forth arguments about “my needs.” Just sex, straight up, plain and simple. Maybe there was something to be said for that. Just her luck that she’d meet up with the one guy in the house who followed the rules and she had no money to pay for his services. She had to smile.

“What?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“You’re smiling.”

“Oh, I was just thinking about something.” Thank goodness for the dark room, he probably wouldn’t be able to see if she was blushing.

He began to stroke her hair idly. “May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you cut your hair off? Were you sick?”

“Huh? Oh. No. It’s just the fashion in America. A lot of women have short hair.”

“Why?”

“Well, because we like the way it looks. And it’s a lot easier to take care of. When I was a girl, I had hair down to the middle of my back. It was a lot of work.”

“But I imagine it looked beautiful.”

“I guess.” She could hear music begin again somewhere. It floated in through the open window. It was lilting, enchanting. The perfect touch for a pleasant moment. She looked up at Ani. “Thank you.”

He seemed surprised. “For what?”

“For rescuing me. For caring when no one else did. For doing everything you possibly could to make me comfortable and happy here. You didn’t have to do any of that. I’m really grateful. You saved my life. Thank you.”

He smiled at her, with a gentleness in his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before. As she looked into his eyes, something odd happened. She knew he was going to kiss her. And in spite of everything, that seemed like the most normal thing in the world at that moment. He caressed her cheek, then kissed her lightly on the lips. The hairs of his mustache tickled her, and she giggled as she scratched her nose. He smiled, and she reached up and brushed his cheek through the beard. She frowned a bit at that thick mass of hair. It was remarkably soft, much softer than she expected. It didn’t suit her tastes, but she could handle it. He kissed her again, this time with more impetus. She could feel the energy shift in her body as his lips lingered on hers. To her surprise, she realized she could do this. All the reasons not to faded away. There were virtually no consequences. No commitment problems. No sexually transmitted diseases. Effective birth control—even if somehow his system didn’t protect her, she was getting her period in a few days. She rose into his kiss. She felt his tongue brush lightly across her teeth. And satisfaction was all but guaranteed. How could she pass this up? Another kiss, and another. More kisses, a tentative meeting of tongues. His hand moved gently across her breast.

At so intimate a touch, suddenly all she could think about was Quinn and the others, wondering where she was and probably worried sick about her. What was she doing? God, what would Quinn think of her if he saw this? She shuddered, then pulled away from his lips. Ani blinked with surprise at her as she tried to understand the real reason for her sudden change of heart and to find the words. “...I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

His disappointment was palpable, but his words surprised her. “Is it because of what I am?”

“No,” she said gently. “It’s because of who you aren’t.”

She could read in his eyes that he understood, and with a sigh he gave her a small smile, then a lingering kiss on her forehead. He settled in next to her, an arm still around her. “Quinn is the crown prince of fools.”

She had to smile as she nestled in next to him. Maybe he was right about that after all.

Quinn moved quietly down a small side street. He hadn’t seen a soldier in at least five minutes, and he was pretty sure he was heading back in the direction of the House of Abneer. He remembered having passed down this particular street during the day, as he’d stopped at the tavern ahead of him on the left to ask about Wade, and the person had been especially rude to him. He hated to think it in case he’d jinx himself, but it looked like he might actually be getting somewhere finally.

As he walked past a narrow alley next to the tavern, he heard raucous, drunken laughter come from inside the building. Then he heard someone outside the tavern, someone who was vomiting, then coughing. From the sound of it, the person was a woman, and she sounded quite sick. He hesitated as he listened to her cough. He knew it might be a trap. He knew he should keep going...but he couldn’t. The sounds of sickness were real, no one could have faked that horrible retching. He couldn’t leave someone in such distress when he knew no one else would help her. Steeling himself, he took a step back and headed into the darkness of the alley.

He found her by the sound of her labored breathing, and then by the acidic stench of her vomit. She lay huddled over, her hair a tangled mess across her clothes and the ground as her face rested on the dirt of the road. “Hey,” he said barely above a whisper, “are you all right?”

She moved her head slightly, but she didn’t look up at him. “...Please...don’t....” She made the slightest move to try to get away, but she was too weak to get up.

He knelt by her. “I’m not going to hurt you. You sound like you’re pretty bad. Maybe you should see a doctor.” She didn’t react. “Did you hear me? I think you need help.” She moved slightly again, but she couldn’t get up. He grasped her shoulders gingerly and lifted her up so he could see her face.

He gasped. She was thin and drawn, and the last of her vomit was dribbled on her chin. But he knew her face. He knew it well. It was Daelin. “Oh, my God.”

Her eyes drifted and caught his, and then her glassy eyes sparkled with recognition. “They heard me, they heard me...,” she whispered with a faint smile. He quickly sat against the wall in the dark alley and with trembling arms pulled her into a comforting embrace. “They heard my prayers....”

“My God, what’s wrong? What happened?” He leaned her shoulder back against his arm so she could look at him.

“You found me again, just like you always did. But this time you’re too late.”

His stomach sank. “Too late? What do you mean? What did you do?”

She rested her head against his shoulder. Her voice was thin and breathy, and she only had the strength to speak in short phrases. “I could never be like you. I could never...let go of who I was. I don’t blame you. I admire it. You could survive. I couldn’t.”

Quinn was beginning to shake. “My God, Daelin, what did you do?” He held her out to look at her. “What did you take? How can I stop it?” But even as he said the words, he knew they were futile. All he knew to do was have her vomit whatever it was, and she’d already done that. It had gotten too far into her system. Water might help dilute it. “Let me get you some water. I’ve got to do something.” He shifted to get up, but the panic on her face stopped him.

“No, please. Don’t go in there. I don’t want to die in there. I don’t want them to find me until it’s over.”

He slumped back against the wall and gazed at her in horror. “Please don’t die.”

“I died a long time ago,” she said softly. “You never understood that.”

He pulled her into a tight embrace as tears began to fall. He knew she thought he was Ani, but he didn’t care. She was dying, and he didn’t want her to.

“Stay with me,” she said. “Stay until the end. I don’t want to die alone. Promise.”

“Yes. I promise.”

“Thank you. I knew you’d find me. I knew. I prayed to Attar, and Pidray. I asked Mot not to take me until I could see you again. And They heard me.”

Quinn’s mind raced through all of his medical knowledge, but every path led to a dead end. On this world, there was nothing he could do to save her. All he could do was watch her die.

More loud laughter came from inside the tavern, and she shrank from the sound. “Don’t worry,” Quinn said. “They won’t find you.”

“Don’t let them.”

“I won’t.”

“Thank you.” She relaxed at his promise. After a few moments, she said in a small, distant voice, “How are you? How are the others? You look so good.”

“They’re fine,” he said. “They all miss you. I missed you.”

Her reply was a comforted sigh. “I missed you, so much. When Abneer sold me, and I knew I’d never see you again, I knew...I couldn’t....” Distress cracked her voice as her failing body tensed.

He kissed the top of her head. “Shh, stop. It’s okay now. It’s all right. I’m here now. That’s all the matters.”

Her body relaxed, and she turned her head against his shoulder and rested against him like a child. “Tell me a story.”

He thought for a moment, but his mind was a blank. “I don’t know any.”

“Make one up.”

He struggled for another moment, then said, “Well, once upon a time, there was this boy.”

“Was he a prince?”

“No.”

“I want him to be a prince.”

“Okay, he was a prince.” He looked down to see her faint smile. “And there was this girl, who was a princess. And their families were friends, and they were friends. And they grew up together. And as they got older, they grew closer and closer until the boy—the prince—loved the princess very much. But he never had the courage to tell her.”

“Why not?” she said faintly.

“Because she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. And he was afraid. He was afraid that she might not feel the same way about him. So, he was stupid. He thought she would always be there. He thought he had time to tell her later.” A tear fell from his eye. “And then, one day, she left. And he realized how stupid he’d been. He’d loved her more than anything, and now it was too late.” Her body began to slip, and she sighed slightly. He shifted her up in his arms. “And then, one day, when the prince was going through the town, he saw her again.” He looked down at her, and saw the faintest of smiles. “And she was just as beautiful as she’d always been. And he was so happy to see her.” More tears dropped. “And he finally had the courage to tell her how much he loved her. And she said she loved him, too. And they were both really happy. And it was like they’d never been apart. And they stayed together...forever.”

He looked at her. She wasn’t reacting. Her breathing was shallow. He put a hand against her cold face and tilted her head up so he could see her. The darkness was beginning to move across her face. Only the faint breath passing through her parted lips said she was still alive. His voice cracked: “Would you like me to tell you another story?” There was no reaction, and he cried.

The covered waiting area at the Sodom pier offered shelter from the night and its dangers, but it was cold and damp from the breeze off the bay. The benches were hard, and so were the people waiting on them. Rembrandt and Arturo took turns keeping an eye on the gathered souls as the other slept—or tried to sleep. Twice they heard sounds of violence out in the darkness, but no one in the waiting area made an effort to investigate or come to anyone’s aid. Arturo looked at the disinterest around him as the sounds of the second scuffle faded away in the night. “If ever there were a place that had earned a fate of fire and brimstone,” he said simply, “this would be it.”

Rembrandt, who was curled up on the bench with his eyes closed but was not at all asleep, said, “We just need to make sure we’re not here to participate. What time is it?”

Arturo checked his watch. “Not quite midnight.”

Rembrandt sat up slowly. “It’s my turn at watch. Get some rest.”

Arturo made no move to lie down as Rembrandt stretched stiffly and shifted over to sit next to him. The Professor said, “I’ve been thinking. If this is supposed to go the way you say it is, and we actually do locate Lot and his family, how are we supposed to convince them to go with us?” He gave his companion a significant sideways glance. “I can’t speak for you, Mr. Brown, but I’m no angel.”

Rembrandt smiled, then yawned. “Well, we could tell them the truth. Or as much as they can handle.”

“Which I daresay wouldn’t be very much. Besides, aren’t the angels of the Lord supposed to be handling this? I think we’re being quite presumptuous to muscle in on their action.”

Rembrandt shrugged slightly. “I guess. Maybe they’ll be there when we get there. If we’re lucky, maybe we can hitch a ride along with them, then.”

Arturo smiled, then laughed heartily. He held out his thumb in a hitchhiking gesture. “‘I say, room for a few more?’” He laughed again.

Rembrandt smiled at him tiredly. “Would you please get some sleep? You’re getting punchy.”

“Sleep,” Arturo said slowly as he rolled his head, then tucked his hands into his pockets and settled his chin on his chest. “I don’t think it exists on this Earth.”

“Well then, invent a little.”

Arturo eyed him, then smiled and closed his eyes. Rembrandt smiled at him for a moment, then guardedly scanned the faces of the others in the waiting area.

Wade awoke from an easy slumber when she felt Ani get back into the bed. “I checked with the watchman—no one has asked for you yet tonight.”

So considerate to check, she thought with a sleepy smile. Through sleep-filled eyes, she glanced at him as she reached out to resume their cuddling pose. What she saw made her gasp awake and bolt to her knees on the bed. It was Quinn in bed with her.

He looked at her with a blink. “No, it’s me. It’s Ani.”

She stared at him. The beard was gone. But yes, as she examined him in the light of the dying candle, she could see those weren’t Quinn’s eyes looking at her. The hair was too long as well. “You shaved your beard.”

“Yes.”

“In the middle of the night?”

He seemed embarrassed to have such attention drawn to this. “You didn’t like it, so I thought I’d see how it feels to be without it for a while.”

She couldn’t believe he’d done this. “Ani, are you nuts? What about those male customers? Without the beard, they’re going to be asking for you again.”

“I think I’m important enough to Abneer that he might try to keep me happy. And perhaps my regular customers will like me better without it now. So Abneer can charge even more money.”

She lay back down in the bed and settled into his arms. “I can’t believe you did this. I think you’re nuts.”

“What’s ‘nuts’?”

“Crazy. Out of your mind. A lunatic.”

“No, I’m not ‘nuts.’ I’ll be all right. If my regular customers don’t like me this way, I’ll grow it back after you leave.”

“Ani,” she lamented.

He tightened his embrace for a moment, signaling an end to the conversation. “I’ll be all right. Go to sleep.”

As she lay there, she finally understood everything. It all fell into place. She had been misreading him from the very beginning. He wasn’t so kind and solicitous to her because of his training, or his job, or the demands of the local culture. He was doing all this because he _was_ nuts—nuts about her. So much so that he was willing to risk the pain and humiliation of having male customers again just because she didn’t care for his beard. A month or more of difficulty for one evening’s worth of a kind gesture.

As she lay there with him in the room lit only by the soft, flickering light of a tired candle, nestled against his large, warm chest, she could feel something opening inside her, her well-shielded heart unlocking its door to let him in. She could feel a strange, lucent energy passing between his heart and hers and back again, flowing like rivers of light and energy with messages and feelings and understanding unfathomable to the human mind.

As she lay there, she realized she could make love with him. Him, as Ani, not as a substitute for Quinn or as revenge or as recreation or as anything else. Just her, and him, and a sharing of trust and honesty and companionship and that mysterious something else that was flowing between them. Did she dare say so? No, she didn’t want to spoil this moment, this aura of perfect peace and contentment. Sex for hire was one thing, but making love with him was a totally different matter. She didn’t know him well enough to let down all of her barriers. Any sort of satisfaction guarantee wouldn’t apply if she wasn’t willing to let go completely. No, thinking about it would be much better than doing it. This was much more satisfying than an interlude of tussling and groping and disappointment followed by an awkward morning and a few months of berating herself with an endless loop of “How could I be so stupid?”

He put a gentle hand on the back of her shoulder. “You’re tense. Is something wrong?”

Could she say it? She certainly couldn’t look at him. “I was thinking I could make love with you.” Gasp—so much for wondering. What had she just unleashed?

His arms around her became a gentle embrace, and she could hear his lips part in a smile. He kissed her temple. “Are you certain this time?”

Well, no, actually, she thought. “Yes.” Where had that come from? She wasn’t on some awful gratitude jag, was she?

He rolled over and leaned above her on his elbow. His blue eyes bore into her, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Look at me and say it, so I know it’s true.”

God, those eyes. How different from Quinn’s they were! Lit by the dying candlelight, they were so passionate, so intense...so open and vulnerable. She had never seen so far inside him before. He was always as shielded as she was, but now his defenses were down, too. Those clear, lustrous eyes. She could get lost in them. And all they saw was her. She couldn’t help but smile. “Yes.”

He smiled, then leaned down and kissed her tenderly. She thought as she tasted his lips that this was different from before. This wasn’t a gesture from a practiced professional; this was the first kiss from a small town boy who sold produce with his parents. She wondered how many of the girls back home he’d kissed on the sly on a warm summer’s night, glancing around by the back door to make sure no one saw them, so long ago, long before the pain and losses in his life took him so very far away. His skin was soft after his shave, and he smelled of fresh herbs, probably from some ointment to soothe his skin after the outrage of the razor. She touched his cheek. So soft, so very soft.

He looked at her with a small smile and caressed her cheek. He gazed at her, taking in her face, all of it, as if trying to memorize every detail. He brushed the hair away from her eyes, then up off her forehead. He kissed her forehead, then her left eye, then her right. He kissed between her eyes, then her waiting lips. But he moved on past to her cheek, then her left ear, then behind her ear. He was almost completely above her now, but he was barely touching her as he kissed down the side of her neck. She turned her head to give him complete access to her neck and throat, and he replied by finding the tender skin behind her ear and brushing it with light kisses.

Wade could feel her body responding to him, waking up as if after a long, cold sleep. Part of her was afraid of this, afraid of him, afraid of how she was reacting. There was a power waiting inside her, lurking like a jaguar, ready to pounce at the right moment. That power had always frightened her a little. She had known it for a long time, but she’d never revealed it to anyone. None of her boyfriends had ever truly roused the jaguar. Yet here was this man, whom she’d known for less than a day, who was awakening that long-slumbering part of her body and her soul. Terrifying. And exhilarating.

He was kissing her throat now. He moved up to the soft flesh under her chin, then following the line along the curve of her jaw to her right ear. She turned her head away to offer him her neck. She smiled as she could feel the jaguar purring.

She was expecting him to move in closer now, to take this to the next level, but he moved back to the side. He put a tentative hand on the hem of her nightshirt just above her knee. She shuddered as he looked at her, waiting. She closed her eyes with the smallest of nods, and he slowly, gently began to pull the hem up. The soft cotton slid against the skin of her thigh, making her shiver. He pulled on her nightshirt on the other side as well, and soon the hem was gliding slowly up past her hips, her waist. She shifted her weight to let it slide past her shoulders, and with a delicate tug around her arms and neck, he had it in his hands. He put it down by his pillow and looked at her.

The covers now only reached to her waist, and she felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze. He peeled back the covers to reveal her underpants. She’d retreated from the moment and she looked at the ceiling as he slid his hand down her side to the waistband. She could feel him pull on it, but then she heard him gasp as the band pulled back into place. She propped herself up on her elbows and saw him staring open-mouthed at the waistband. “What?”

He pulled on the waistband again, and blinked with surprise as it freed itself from his fingers and snapped back into place. He stared at it, then her. “What is this?”

She smiled. “It’s called elastic.”

He pulled on the band again, then deliberately let it snap back noisily but harmlessly against her stomach. He laughed, then snapped it again. “This is amazing!” He snapped it again, and she had to laugh at his childlike joy. He beamed at her. “Do the surprises ever end?”

“Probably not,” she said simply. Charmed once again by his innocence, she could watch now as he pulled the waistband down past her hips. Another shift of her weight, and the panties were past her ankles and off. After another curious stretch of the waistband’s elastic, he smiled and gathered up her nightshirt with the panties and put them at the foot of the bed.

The covers were completely off her now, but she didn’t feel the chill in the room. She watched him pull his own nightshirt over his head and put it with her clothes at the foot of the bed. He was wearing an unfamiliar style of underclothes of thick cotton that wrapped down from a waistband around his crotch and then up in the back. It almost reminded her of what the sumo wrestlers two worlds earlier had worn. But even the heavy cotton couldn’t hide his erection.

“Turn over,” he said quietly.

“What?” she said with surprise.

“Lie on your stomach.”

Oh, God, what was he going to do? She’d never thought that the positions of choice here might be different. She suddenly wished she’d taken him up on his offer to watch earlier.

She rolled over, the chill in the room on her skin. He lifted her head gently and pulled the pillow out from under her, gently setting her head down on the mattress. Oh, God, she thought, maybe the birth control here was so effective because everyone preferred anal sex. She steeled herself. One stray gesture and she would be out of there in an instant.

His warm hands settled on the back of her neck, and she heard the frown in his voice. “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.” As his fingers began to knead the back of her neck, she was embarrassed, and, after a few strokes, she let herself relax into his grip. “That’s better.”

He massaged her body from the back of her head down her arms to her hands and then down her shoulders to her feet. No part was given less attention than another, and everywhere he worked, his hands roused her and brought the blood to the surface, leaving her feeling warm and alive.

After he finished on the bottom of her feet, he squeezed them gently. “Roll over.” She did, and this time she didn’t feel self-conscious under his gaze. As he began to massage the top of her feet, he said, “About ten minas would suit you.”

“Ten what?”

“Some weight.” He thought for a moment, then smiled. “About the weight of two robust babies.”

“Fifteen pounds? No way!”

He nodded, then continued his work on her feet. “After two or three children, you’ll fill out nicely.” She slipped a foot from his grasp and made a playful kick towards his face. He pulled back out of harm’s way in time and chuckled as he collected her foot. “Happy is the man who has children with you. If he lives, of course.” She laughed at that.

He massaged her ankles, then up her shins, her knees, her thighs. She could feel the jaguar waking again as he moved up her thighs to her hips. She tried not to tremble as he kneaded the flesh around and then under her pubic hair. But he didn’t stay there and continued his way up her body. She instinctively tightened her stomach muscles to flatten her stomach as he approached her navel. He stopped and frowned. “Why are you holding in your belly? It’s bad for your digestion.” He thumped her below her navel and she let out her muscles with a gasp of surprise. He kneaded the flesh, accentuating the natural roundness. “This is one of the most beautiful parts of a woman, that soft pout. Why would you try to hide it?”

As his fingers worked on her belly, she let out a deep sigh. How could she tell him that the current fashion in some parallel dimension dictated that a woman should have a stomach as flat as a man’s? But the more she thought about that as he massaged her with appreciation, the less she liked it. He pressed deep into her belly muscles, and the strength and warmth in his hands triggered something. Her muscles yielded suddenly, and she let out a moan. She was startled by the sound of her own voice. Had he made her do that, and just by touching her stomach?

His hands moved up to her waist, and then her ribs—“eight minas, definitely,” he said teasingly—and then he came to her breasts. The first soft touch on the underside of her left breast sent a bolt of electricity down her spine that shook the bed. He massaged the tender flesh more gingerly than the rest of her, but again his movements weren’t overtly sexual. They didn’t have to be. Wade could feel the shiver of energy traveling down from her breasts across her stomach to below her belly. She shifted slightly, unconsciously trying to rub her legs together.

Ani seemed not to notice. He asked quietly, “Tell me what sex has been like for you.”

She tried to keep her breathing even as she said, “Well, not all that good. I mean, it hasn’t been bad, but it hasn’t been good, either.” She was long past wondering if he was asking as a professional or simply as a future lover.

He moved his attention up to her chest, and then over to the soft undersides of her arms. “What haven’t you liked about it?”

As he massaged her right shoulder, she said, “It’s just, I don’t know, it’s...it moves faster than I do.”

“You mean they didn’t wait for you,” he corrected her, then pressed down hard on the muscles around her shoulder. They suddenly yielded, and she let out a gasp of relief.

“...I guess so.”

“You hold your anger in your shoulders,” he said, then moved down her arm to knead the muscles above her elbow, then her forearm. “With how many men has this happened?”

“Well,” she said, closing her eyes as he moved on to her wrist, “I only really had sex with, well, a couple of guys. With boyfriends before that, I didn’t quite have sex, some really heavy petting, but not going all the way.”

“‘Didn’t quite have sex’?” He frowned at her. “What’s that?” He began a delicate but strong massage of her hand.

“Well, like....” As her hand relaxed under his touch, so did her brain. As he parted her fingers and pressed his thumbs into her palms, every thought in her head fled. She gazed at her hand dumbly as he worked.

He smiled. “You have good hands,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. He rubbed her palm a bit more, then massaged her fingers, then moved over to her left shoulder. He pushed on the muscles and undid them, and she let out another groan. “So,” he said, “what’s ‘not quite sex’?”

“Everything from kissing right up to doing it, but not doing it.”

His brow furrowed as he massaged her left arm. “‘Doing it.’” He thought, but said nothing for a moment. “Here, that’s not ‘not quite sex.’”

She looked at him. “This is sex?”

He nodded.

She said quietly, “...There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

He laughed. “Yes.” He kneaded her wrist, then went to work on her left hand. The same mind-numbing effect of the massage on her other hand washed over her here, too. He said nothing as she surrendered to the bliss of the moment and lost herself in the pressure of his hands. He rubbed her fingers, then collected her fingers in his hands and kissed her fingertips.

He laid down beside her and pulled the covers over him and her. She turned to embrace him, and he wrapped his arms around her and met her in a kiss. The kiss wasn’t as passionate as Wade expected—she’d thought she knew where this was going—and she was a bit surprised when he pulled back from her and said, “I want you to tell me what you like and what you don’t like.” He turned her over onto her back, then began to kiss her shoulder gently, lingeringly. “Everything,” he said between kisses.

She wasn’t used to talking at this point; perhaps, she thought, because no one had ever asked her to. To her surprise, he settled down on his side next to her, his right leg slightly propped up next to her right leg. Oh, she thought, he must want me on top. But she was wrong again, as he pulled her close to him with her still lying on her back. She tried to turn to face him, but his left leg gently eased in between her legs and kept her in place. She was mostly on her back, half resting on his chest and stomach. “What are you doing?”

He kissed the back of her ear as he began to slip his left hand under her. She could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “Waiting for you.”

She tried to turn again, but this time his right leg slipped in between hers, keeping her in place more by inertia than by force. He was neither completely under her nor completely beside her, and, either way, this certainly wasn’t a position she knew—the mechanics had her baffled. He kissed her shoulder as his left hand eased all the way around her and cupped her left breast. She let out a sigh of surprise and anticipation. He began to caress her breast as his other hand found and cradled her right breast. The press of his warmth against her back, the kisses on her neck, his hands on her breasts, and the firm, gentle pressing apart of her legs combined to electrify her body. God, this was incredible. She moaned softly.

She began to move with his hands, her breathing coming deeper and faster. She reached up and found his face beside her, and she caressed his soft cheek. He kissed the palm of her hand, and then returned to her neck. She sent her fingers through his dark hair, squeezing with appreciation as the pleasure and electricity flowed through her. The first glowing spark of fire flickered to life between her legs, and she yielded to it and let it grow.

His right hand slipped down from her breast, and she cooed with disappointment and caught his hand. “No, I like that.”

She could feel his smile against the soft skin behind her ear as he took her hand in his, raising it to his lips for a quick kiss, then putting her hand on her breast. She didn’t understand. “What...?” He squeezed her hand slightly, then sent his hand sliding slowly down her stomach, across the round of her belly, and then across the mound of pubic hair. She gasped as he parted those lips and found the lightning rod of the current flowing through her body. She shuddered as his fingers caressed that most tender spot. In the surprise of the moment, she instinctively tried to close her legs, but his legs were in the way, keeping them apart. She shivered in the vulnerability of the moment. But she knew that if she truly fought against him, he would let her go. That knowledge purled through her like the waves of the fire building inside her, and after a tremble rippled up her body, she relaxed into his double caresses.

Still, part of her didn’t understand; she could feel his rock-hard erection straining against her hip, and yet he made no effort to seek his own release or even remove the last of his clothing. She trailed her hand down to her side to caress him in return, but his right hand was suddenly around her hand, pulling it away. In her ear he whispered, “No...I can wait.” He put her hand back on her breast, then resumed his caresses.

At last, she understood. Her right hand slipped down to join his and guide his efforts. With her hands on his, she surrendered to his embrace, to his touch, to the lure of the fire, to the growl of the jaguar. When his hand strayed from just the right spot, she would direct him back. When she moaned, the sound only filled her ears as the fire filled the rest of her.

Then suddenly the leading edge of the fire was rushing towards her. To stop this would be safe; she could still stay in control and run from the fire, from the jaguar pacing back and forth on the other side of the flames. But she didn’t want to be in control. She let go and let the fire sweep over her. As the jaguar broke free and surged through her body, she cried out in gasping sobs and clenched and fought against the embrace around her and shook the bed until every last bit of the fire was squeezed out. Ani was with her to the end, as the shudders slowed, then finally stopped. Unaware, she dissolved into his arms, into the warmth and the strength and the sweat.

When she opened her eyes, the room was dark. The candle had gone out, but she could smell its last whiff of smoke. Ani’s arms were around her. She turned to him and embraced him, and he held her close. She noticed his underclothes were gone. So was his erection. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Not long.”

She settled into his arms. The intensity of what had just happened made her sigh. “I’ve never experienced anything like that in my life.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Neither have I.”

“...I made a lot of noise, didn’t I?” She didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or not.

“No, not a lot. I think some people on the other side of town are still asleep.”

He chuckled, and she playfully punched him on the chest. She pushed him over onto his back and leaned on his chest. Her hand slipped down between them, to his relaxed flesh. “And what about this? I thought you said you could wait.”

He smiled as he cupped her face in his hands. “I tried. But you carried me along with you.”

She blinked, then slipped her hand down alongside her right buttock. Her fingers found the last of a sticky spot. She looked around and saw his underclothes tossed on top of the other night clothes. Even in the moonlight, she could see the sodden patch in front. She marveled at him. “Wow.” She laughed softly. She kissed him, then kissed him again.

“So,” he said lightly, “in America, that’s not sex?”

She eyed him. “I don’t care what it’s called in America.” She kissed him, and he cupped her face in his hands again and pulled her into a long, slow embrace. She slid up on top of him. His face was luminous in the moonlit room. She sat up astride him to enjoy the sight. “Want to see if we can wake up those last few people across town?”

He laughed. “If I have the strength for it.”

She laughed at that. “Hey, don’t sell yourself short.” She shuddered when she realized what she said, then frowned as she watched his face darken for a moment. “Ani, I’m sorry, it’s just a saying back home and....”

He shook his head. He took her hand and kissed it—he used his left hand, she noticed. “Wade, you need never apologize to me.” She leaned down to kiss him, and his arms were around her and he didn’t let her go.


	6. Chapter 6

Quinn walked slowly through the quiet streets. He looked up at the moon, then glanced at his watch. It was nearly 4:00 a.m.

It had taken Daelin—or whatever her name was here—nearly three hours to let go of the last of her life. She’d been unconscious for the last two hours, and he could have slipped away and left her there after it was obvious that she wouldn’t be waking up again. But he’d made a promise not to let her die alone, and that meant being with her to the very end, to the last, almost imperceptible breath. When it was over, he curled her body into a comfortable position and tidied her up as best he could. When he stepped away and looked back at her, she looked as if she were sleeping peacefully. He hoped she was. He turned and walked away quickly.

The vigil had been the three longest hours of his life. He so desperately wanted her to live, he would have done anything to bring her back. But with no medical facilities to aid him, all he could do was try to keep her awake for as long as possible and hope that she could beat whatever poison was left in her system.

But he couldn’t keep her alive by sheer force of will. She was so intent on dying. After she lost consciousness for the last time, he realized that he knew nothing about her and what her life was like, and trying to keep her alive against her wishes was utterly heartless. He could only barely imagine what it was that she was escaping. He’d learned enough on his odyssey through the town that the black band tattooed around her right wrist meant she was a slave. For her to have known Ani and “the others,” he could only assume she’d been in the brothel. Then somehow she’d ended up in a small, cheap tavern...doing what, he couldn’t imagine. But it was so terrible that her only way out was to step outside the back door and end her life in the squalor of a dark alley. For him to force her back to life somehow, just to make himself feel better, would have been the most selfish act he ever could have committed. The second most selfish would have been to leave her with his promise unkept. He needed desperately to go, but he also needed to stay. Staying took priority. If Wade was still at the House of Abneer, she was probably all right. From Daelin—whatever her name was—he’d gotten an idea of what Ani was like, and that he was probably a pretty decent human being. By Gomorran standards, anyway. Wade could wait for him until his promise to Daelin was fulfilled. He was sure she’d understand.

But the ordeal had taken its toll on Quinn. Watching someone die is never an easy thing, and watching Daelin die, under such squalid conditions, and by her own hand, had cut Quinn down to the bone. Add to that that he was exhausted, he hadn’t eaten since morning and he was ravenous, he had only a vague idea where he was, he was still furious at Diehdan...and he was scared that they weren’t going to get out of this one. They’d had some pretty close scrapes in the past, but right now in this dark street in this hellhole of a town, he honestly didn’t know how they were all going to rendezvous safely and get out of here intact. He needed to think. But he was so tired. If he could just get a few hours’ sleep! But that was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He had to keep moving. He had to keep his eyes and ears open. Besides, it would be light in a couple of hours, and daylight would not be his friend. As tired as he was, he had to keep going. He had to find Wade. He had to find the House of Abneer, wherever that was in this labyrinthine city. Maybe he could find someone who’d give him directions to the brothel.

He followed the sound of voices in the darkness and came upon an open area near a gap in the city walls. The break in the city’s defenses was perhaps twenty feet wide, and from its ragged edges and useless location, it looked like it had been broken through in a battle or some other disaster. It looked like it had been left this way for a few years. No regular buildings were in the area, and in the void a tent city of sorts was set up, as people on the lowest rung of Gomorrah’s society had found each other in this forgotten part of town. A fire burned in the center of the open area, and about ten of the city’s unwanted residents were gathered around, talking quietly and enjoying the light. Quinn could see another fifteen or so people in the open area, sitting along the wall, chatting in the shadows, and two were sharing some bread. He noticed they were men and boys mostly, and a few old women. All looked like beggars and some might be thieves. But his ordeal had dulled his reluctance to mix with the townspeople. After a quick assessment to make sure there were no soldiers in the area, Quinn stepped up and warmed his hands by the blaze. The others looked at this stranger for a moment, but they went back to their conversations when they apparently decided he was harmless.

Quinn looked at the fire and wondered what to do next. Somehow he had to find Wade and get across the mouth of the bay to Sodom without being seen by the soldiers. He would have to rely on a stranger for directions—and in this town, strangers always wanted something in return. He had no money in case he needed to bribe someone, and he couldn’t imagine that the ferry was free, either. He needed to think. If only he could think of something!

Two other strangers—these two well dressed—moved into the open area, but the two men didn’t approach the fire. They moved slowly along the row of people sitting against the wall. Quinn could see a few words exchanged between those along the wall and the strangers, but he couldn’t hear the conversations. When the men lingered before a boy dressed in rags who was probably not even twelve years old, then signaled him to stand, Quinn understood what was going on. He frowned and looked away when he saw the two escort the boy away into the darkness beyond the wall. He looked at the people gathered around the fire, and the others who stayed back in the shadows. No one was taking particular notice of what had happened. But why should they? This probably happened a dozen times a night. He hated this place, this entire world. As far as he was concerned, they couldn’t slide out of this Godforsaken pit a moment too soon. If God was going to toast this place like Rembrandt said, he was ready to say good riddance.

Quinn gazed into the alluring flames for a few minutes, trying to come up with some brilliant plan to rescue Wade and get to Sodom in one piece before he started asking those around him where the House of Abneer was. He didn’t notice another group of three well-dressed strangers enter the open area until they were next to him. “So, Baal has brought us together again,” one of the men said in a low voice.

Quinn looked at him, then stiffened. It was the dapper townsman who had accosted him in the street during the afternoon. He stepped away from him in a defensive posture, but he bumped up against one of the man’s friends standing behind him. “You guys again.” The man nodded in acknowledgment. “Look,” Quinn said firmly, “I know you think I’m this guy named Ani, but I’m not. So just back off.” He glared at them to make his point.

“Perhaps,” the first man said. “But I don’t really care.”

Quinn clenched his fists defensively, but as he turned to face them fully, he realized they had him surrounded. His only way to escape would be to jump into the fire.

At a glance from the townsman, his two friends lunged at Quinn. He got off a punch to a chin before they locked onto him. The other people around the fire had no interest in the matter and stepped away in silence.

As Quinn struggled in vain between the two friends, the townsman stepped up before him and smirked. He took a firm grip on Quinn’s jacket collar. “I hope you like it rough. But it doesn’t matter what you like, does it?” He pulled on Quinn’s jacket towards the opening in the wall.

Quinn suddenly leaned back against the men holding him and kicked both feet into the surprised townsman’s chest. The man landed hard on his back with a cough of pain. As Quinn regained his footing, he tripped the first henchman on his right and sent him down into the dirt. As the man fell, he refused to loosen his grip, pulling Quinn and the second henchman stumbling down on top of him. For his trouble, all the stubborn first thug got was the wind knocked out of him. Quinn pushed the man above him away, and the unlucky minion fell hard and went spinning towards the fire. He shrieked with pain as his hand landed in the flames, and he coddled his wounded arm as he scrambled away from the fight.

Quinn stood to face the thug on the ground, but a sharp kick to his back dropped him to his knees. A kick to the back of his head knocked him face first into the dirt. The world was spinning before his eyes, but he managed to roll over in time to see the townsman pull out a knife and step towards him. He kicked the townsman’s foot out from under him, sending him sprawling. Quinn managed to stagger to his feet. The first henchman was trying to get up after getting his wind back, but the dizzy Quinn dispatched him with a lucky punch to the chin. He turned and saw the townsman up on his knees and trying to get to his dropped knife, but Quinn got to it first and kicked it into the fire. The townsman roared with rage as he scrambled to his feet. He lunged at Quinn, hitting him hard in the stomach. Quinn fell back and landed hard on the ground. The townsman tried to jump on him, but Quinn caught him with an outstretched leg and sent him tumbling to the side. Somehow Quinn found the strength to get up and drop on him, pinning him to the ground and punching him hard across the face. The townsman tried to defend himself, but his would-be victim had turned the tables and trapped him under his knee.

All of his pent-up rage exploded in Quinn’s chest, and he gave in to the sheer joy of beating the crap out of this man. It wasn’t until soldiers pulled him off that he realized the man’s face was covered with blood. As the soldiers dragged him away, the dazed Quinn could only stare at the silent faces of the other people who had been gathered around the fire, while the townsman followed, screaming his fury at the top of his lungs.

As the very long night ended, Arturo and Rembrandt watched the eastern sky brighten, and then the golden sun announced a clear, beautiful morning. As the others in the ferry’s waiting area rose and headed out onto the streets of Sodom, Rembrandt wistfully watched the sun’s rise over the hills across the bay. “The last dawn,” he said quietly, and Arturo did not scoff. The two stood stiffly and stretched, then left the shelter of the waiting area.

The dirty streets by the dock were lined with ramshackle taverns and brothels. Last patrons were being sent out the doors, and there were more than a few puddles of vomit to step over as they walked up the hill into the town. Arturo frowned as he looked at the squalor around them. “Well, Sausalito it isn’t.” Rembrandt smiled slightly. They continued up the hill. “So, Mr. Brown, assuming that Lot actually is here, how are we supposed to find him? If this place is even worse than the one we left, I wouldn’t trust a passerby to tell me the right time of day, let alone give me proper directions.”

“Well, in the Bible, I think the angels found him by the gate to the city. So, we’ll hit all the gates first. And if we don’t find him, we can ask a bunch of people, and if two or more of them say the same thing, we can start looking there.”

Arturo looked at him with admiration. “Why, Mr. Brown, I do believe you’re becoming empirical.” He patted Rembrandt on the shoulder with a laugh, and they continued on their way.

Wade awoke alone in the sun-drenched room. By instinct, she glanced around for a clock, then shook her head as she realized of course there was none. By the height of the sun, she guessed it was past 8:00, but she wasn’t sure. Ani’s clothes were gone, and her nightshirt was draped across the foot of the bed waiting for her. She smiled when she saw lying on top of it a small flower, undoubtedly from the garden. She picked up the blossom and inhaled its faint perfume deeply. Still sitting under the covers, she slipped the nightshirt over her head, then began to wonder about breakfast and a bath, not necessarily in that order. She got out of the bed, then noticed a chamber pot sitting in front of the door, another flower resting on the lid. She guessed she wasn’t supposed to go outside of the room. She wondered why, then decided he must have his reasons. She used the chamber pot, then got back into bed and tried not to think about food.

She piled up the pillows and settled in. The top pillow smelled of Ani, and she smiled. She was going to have a tough time keeping a straight face around her fellow Sliders when they were all reunited. Incredible. Even thinking about last night sent a low tingle through her body.

She luxuriated in the softness of the pillows, then took another whiff of the flower Ani had left on her nightshirt. She regarded it as she twirled it lazily, wondering what was going to happen now. If one of the other Sliders didn’t come for her, she’d have to leave by herself for Sodom no later than noon. Could she get Ani to go with her? Should she? Would he go? If he did, what then? They couldn’t take him along with them when they slid. But how could she leave him behind to this life of slavery? If he did go to Sodom with her, and these towns were going to be destroyed tomorrow, everything he’d known would be destroyed with them, and he’d have nowhere to go. But if they weren’t destroyed tomorrow, he’d be a runaway slave, and that would certainly put him in jeopardy. She recalled the public execution and shuddered. They might have to take him through the vortex, just to save his life.

There was a soft knock on the door, but to Wade’s disappointment it was Yasmi. She slipped quietly into the room with a plate of food balanced on top of a large bowl. Her actions were all of stealth as she approached the bed. “Here,” she said quietly as she handed Wade the food. The bowl was filled with water and a sponge. “I’m afraid this is all the bath you can have.” Yasmi said as she set the bowl on the floor next to the bed.

“What’s the matter?” Wade asked as she bit into a small loaf of freshly baked bread.

Yasmi shook her head slightly. “Abneer came back this morning. Two days early. Things went badly in Sodom, and I’ve never seen him in such a temper. Ani will be here later with your clothes when he can get here safely. You must be very careful. Don’t open the door for anyone except Ani. He’ll get you out when it’s safe. If Abneer learns you’re here,” she rolled her eyes and didn’t need to finish the sentence.

Wade’s stomach sank. “Ani’s not in trouble, is he?”

“Not as long as Abneer doesn’t know you’re here.” She got up and went to the door. She opened it slightly and looked out into the hallway. She looked at Wade. “You should be safe in here. This part of the building isn’t used much. But still, don’t make a sound. Do _not_ go outside this room.” She looked out the door again, and then slipped out into the hallway, closing the door silently behind her.

Wade was up in a flash and put the chair against the door. Then she realized the chair had been blocking the peephole, and she quickly put it back. She moved the table over and rested it against the door. She went to the window and looked outside. It was about a ten foot drop to the garden. If worse came to worse, she could probably get down there safely. But she was wearing a nightgown. How far could she get dressed like this? She needed her clothes.

She got back into the bed—or rather sat on it—and looked at her food, now suddenly not hungry. What would happen to her if she was caught? What would happen to Ani? Could everyone else in the house be trusted to keep her a secret? What was she thinking—trusting someone in Gomorrah? She got off the bed and began to pace. She looked at the window above the garden, then realized the shutters should be closed. She closed them quickly, then sent up a silent prayer that no one had been looking.

She tried to eat, but it was hard work. Eventually she abandoned her breakfast and gave herself a sponge bath. A nice hot shower would have been a lot better, but this would do. She slipped the nightshirt back on and sat on the bed, anxiously waiting.

Finally, perhaps an hour later, there was a soft knock on the door. She froze. “Wade, it’s Ani.” She was up with relief and moved the table away from the door. He came into the room quickly, her folded clothes hidden inside a wrapped bedsheet. She led the way to the bed and sat him down.

“Ani? Are you all right? Yasmi told me Abneer is back. Are you going to be safe?”

He put his hand on the wrapped clothes on the bed between them, but she noticed that he didn’t actually look at her. “I’ll be fine. Abneer will have a grand fit over a bad business trip, and then things will be better.” He glanced up at her. “Get dressed. It isn’t safe for you to leave yet. I’ll come back later. ...It may be a while. Possibly even in the afternoon.”

She didn’t want to make this worse, but she had to say it. “Ani, I need to get out of here by noon if I’m going to get over to Sodom before nightfall. But, I mean, don’t worry about me. I’ll go out the window and go through the garden.”

He shook his head. “Even if you don’t break your leg, you’ll be seen. No, you have to wait for me.”

There was something of a scared dog look about him that worried her more than his words of caution. Something had happened. She put a hand on his arm. “Ani—” He winced at her touch, and she quickly withdrew her hand. “What is it?”

He sat back and put a hand over the part of his arm that she’d touched. “It’s nothing.”

She looked at his arm, and for the first time she saw just at the hem of his sleeve a red mark. She pulled back the material and revealed the end of a long welt. It looked as if he’d been whipped. Her eyes flashed wide with alarm. “Ani!”

He pulled the material back down to cover the welt. His voice was quiet as he said with an apologetic smile, “Don’t worry, he knows better than to do permanent damage. I’m too valuable.”

She clasped his hand with both of hers. “What happened? What did I do to you?”

He shook his head, and again she noticed that he didn’t meet her eyes. “It wasn’t you. The Lady Morughla came very early this morning, unexpectedly, and I wasn’t prepared...and I...couldn’t...help her the way she wanted to be helped.”

Wade closed her eyes and put a hand over her mouth. She remembered what Yasmi had told her about how failure meant a whipping. “God, this is my fault.”

“No, these things happen. Even to us,” he added, trying to sound jocular.

It didn’t work. “Ani!” She wanted to yell at him, but how could she? This was her fault.

He looked at her intently. “Wade, don’t worry about me. I know how to handle Abneer. And as long as you’re all right, I’ll be all right. Stay here, don’t make any noise, and be ready to go the moment I come for you.”

She nodded, not knowing what to say. He got up and headed for the door, then hesitated. He turned back and sat on the bed next to her. The tenderness of the night before was radiating out of his eyes as he caressed her face with his left hand. He said softly, “I want you to know I understand that whatever you feel about me is because of Quinn. And I don’t care.” He kissed her lightly, then left.

She sat numbly for a few moments. God, what had she done? She was going to get him killed. There was no way this could end well. She had to do something. But all she could do was sit and wait. And pray. She was quickly on her feet and started to put on her clothes.

“Look,” Quinn said with contained anger, “for the hundredth time, I am not Ani. I am not an escaped slave. I was minding my own business. These men attacked me. I was defending myself. Do you—ouch!” He yelped as the jailer’s assistant scraped his knife along his right wrist. The assistant puzzled over the scraped flesh, and, as Quinn fumed, the man showed the results of his test to his superior officer. The officer examined Quinn’s untattooed wrist, giving it several pinches of his own, just to be sure. Quinn glared at them. “Are you satisfied? I’m not a slave! He and his friends are the ones you should be arresting, not me!”

The dapper townsman stepped forward and flashed a bloody rag at Quinn. “I want his head! I want him tortured! Look at what he did to me!” With a dramatic sweep of the rag, he gestured towards his battered face, which wasn’t very badly damaged considering how much blood it had leaked earlier.

The officer sat sleepily opposite Quinn in the holding area of the cellblock and eyed him wearily. “It’s his word against yours, and he lives here. We have more reason to believe him than a stranger.” Quinn let out a sigh of disgust and let his chin drop. The officer said through a suppressed yawn, “I don’t want to have to torture you. Our torturer’s home sick, and Lefo would have to do it, and he’s not very good at it.” He indicated his assistant, whose pride was ruffled by the slight. “So just tell us what we want and maybe the magistrate will go easy on you.”

“What,” Quinn fumed, “just behead me instead of torturing me first and then beheading me? I don’t think so. He’s the one who’s lying.”

“Why would he lie?” the officer asked, obviously not really awake yet this morning.

“He’s mad because I’m not this Ani guy that he can order around. And he’s mad because there were three of them, and only one of me, and I still won the fight.”

This seemed to catch the officer’s interest. He cast a drowsy gaze at the townsman. “There were three of you? I thought it was just two.”

The townsman rankled. “My other friend went to a healer because _this man_ burned his hand.” He pointed at Quinn angrily.

The officer regarded Quinn. “You didn’t mention this part, either.”

“Look,” Quinn said with exasperation, “he jumped on me, I pushed him off, he fell into the fire. I didn’t burn him on purpose. If he hadn’t jumped on me, it wouldn’t have happened.”

The officer sighed, then stood up. “This is too complicated now. I have to take this to the magistrate.”

The townsman chuckled with glee. Quinn had a sinking feeling that the magistrate was in this man’s pocket, and he was now officially doomed. The officer nodded to a couple of soldiers, and suddenly Quinn was being pulled to his feet and back towards the bowels of the jail. “But—you can’t do this!”

“Officer,” a calm voice interrupted, “we saw the whole thing. That young man is telling the truth. He was defending himself.”

All of the people in the holding area turned to see two men standing in the doorway. They were dressed like men of the town, but they lacked the base venality of the Gomorrans. Quinn didn’t recognize them, and he didn’t recall seeing them last night. He wondered at first if they might be the two men who’d escorted the boy outside the breach in the city walls, but they didn’t resemble the unsavory pair. The silent one reminded him of Mr. Hernandez from down the block when he was growing up, and the first one also looked somewhat Mexican, although he had no accent at all...oddly enough, not even a California one. The men were collected and peaceful, in contrast to the ragged agitation of the other witnesses.

The townsman puffed up angrily. “You weren’t there. You must be relatives of his. Well, you can’t bribe his way to freedom. I demand justice!”

The first stranger smiled slightly. “It’s justice you’ll have. We were there. We saw the whole encounter very clearly. The three of you approached him as he was standing by the fire, and you said, “‘So Baal has brought us together again.’ And he said, ‘You again. I know you think I’m this Ani, but I’m not. So just back off.’” The townsman’s mouth opened in surprise. The man continued, “And you said, ‘Perhaps, but I don’t really care.’”

Now Quinn was staring at them. How could they have heard the conversation so clearly and yet he never noticed them there?

The first stranger looked at the officer and nodded towards the townsman. “And then he and his two friends set upon him, and he defended himself.” The officer and the stranger looked at the townsman. “It’s this man who’s lying. If anyone should be arrested, it’s he.”

The townsman gestured angrily, making sure the bloody rag was quite visible. “Look what he did to me! He beat me! I demand he be punished!”

The officer looked at the two strangers. “It was self defense?”

Both men nodded.

The officer looked at the townsman. “Take your damaged pride and go shake it at someone else.” The man squealed with rage, but a soldier gave him a nudge towards the door. The officer looked at Quinn, then gestured to the soldiers on either side of him. “Let him go.”

Quinn was stunned, and it took him a few moments to gather himself. “Thank you. Thank you—” He turned to thank the two strangers who had come to his rescue, but all he caught was a glimpse of them heading out the door to the street. He quickly thought of something. He asked the officer, “Where’s the House of Abneer?”

The officer frowned. “It’s a little early, isn’t it?”

Quinn shook his head. “No, no, I’m meeting someone there.”

“It’s across town, by the south gate. Near the Temple of Anat.”

“Thank you,” Quinn stammered, then hurried out the door.

The townsman fumed at the officer. “You let him go!? I’ll have your head for this!”

The officer gazed at him with annoyance. “Three against one and he still won? No wonder you’re so angry!” The soldiers around the townsman chuckled, and after growling with rage he left.

Quinn hit the street but stopped to get his bearings. South? He looked around. Everything looked so different without the familiar San Francisco landmarks, but the morning sun was casting long shadows before him, so he knew he was facing west. He took off to this left.

He’d put two blocks behind him when the street started to wobble and his left knee buckled. He caught himself before he fell. He stopped next to a small inn and leaned against the wall for support. No food and virtually no water for twenty-four hours had finally caught up with him, and it took him a few moments to fight off the dizzy spell. He desperately needed food, but he had no way to buy it. He looked at the stand of a fruit vendor across the street from the inn and listened to the loud yearnings of his empty stomach. He searched his pockets for something that he could try to trade for food. Dollar bills, a few coins from New Yokohama, and some paper clips were all he had. He considered his jacket. It was a great jacket he’d picked up twenty-some slides ago, back on “Retail Outlet World.” It had gotten him through some rough weather. He could see the telltale signs that rain would be blowing in off the ocean sometime later, probably late afternoon or evening. He could try the New Yokohama coins, but he had to face the fact that his jacket was his most valuable property at this moment, and he might have to sacrifice it for a couple of apples. Well, more than anything, he knew he couldn’t go into this negotiation process showing how desperate he was. He straightened his shoulders and put on his best game face, then headed across the street.

The vendor saw him coming and started pitching the high quality of his wares when Quinn was still halfway across the street. The apples and other exotic fruit that he didn’t recognize did look pretty good. He gave his best discerning customer gaze, then collected a few apples and something that looked like a cantaloupe and offered the vendor half of his New Yokohama coins. The man frowned at them, then bit one. He scowled and handed the coins back. “I want real money.”

Quinn looked at him indignantly. “This is real money. Surely you recognize Yokohaman san.” The vendor squinted at him, not impressed. Quinn shrugged. “I guess Gomorrah isn’t as worldly as I thought.”

The vendor snatched the fruit out of Quinn’s hands and put everything back. “When you get real money, come back.”

Quinn’s stomach rumbled as he dejectedly put his hands in his pockets. Could he part with his jacket? It was Gore-Tex! He sighed. Well, some things couldn’t be helped.

He was about to offer a trade when a street boy no more than eight ran past and scooped half a dozen apples off the end of the vendor’s table into a waiting sack and dashed down the street. The vendor shouted after him, but he was stuck behind the display and couldn’t give chase. Quinn watched the child disappear around an alley corner, then took off after him at a run.

The boy obviously knew the vendor wouldn’t pursue him, because he stopped running as soon as he was out of sight. Quinn nearly ran him over as he rounded the corner. He grabbed the boy by the collar and hoisted him off his feet. The boy squealed until Quinn set him back on the ground, but he didn’t let go of the boy’s collar. Quinn stared down at him, using his height to full advantage. “I bet that vendor would like to get his hands on you, huh?”

The boy tried to wriggle free, but Quinn’s grip was too strong. He tried to bluff his way out of it with, “My father will kill you if he sees you hurting me!”

Quinn had long since become hardened to such lines. “Sure is a good thing he’s not here.” Without hesitation he pulled open the boy’s sack and pulled out three of the apples. “I’d give up stealing if I were you.” He thought of something, then slid the three apples into his jacket and pulled the boy’s pocket inside out. There were a few coins, undoubtedly stolen as well. He’d need money to pay the boat fare over to Sodom. He had no idea how much it was, but he took half of the coins, then dropped the rest in the dirt. He let go of the boy’s collar, and, after a moment of hesitation, the child cursed as he scooped up his remaining money and dashed down the alley.

Quinn pocketed the coins and nearly inhaled the first apple, and he ate the second almost as quickly. He stood against the wall of the alley and frowned as he tossed the core of the second fruit on a pile of trash. God, what had he become? He’d beaten the crap out of someone and then bragged about it, and now he was shaking down kids for their stolen property. He had to get out of his place before he became as bad as the Gomorrans. Or worse—he knew better, and yet he was still doing all these terrible things.

He left the third apple in his pocket—there was no telling when the next meal would come his way—and stepped out to the mouth of the alley. He looked back at the fruit vendor’s booth. The vendor was helping a customer and not looking. Quinn slipped out onto the street and headed away from the booth.


	7. Chapter 7

Arturo and Rembrandt had visited Sodom’s west gate and north gate, but there was no sign of someone who might have been Lot. They asked questions discreetly, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. They never spoke unless they had to. While Gomorrah was disturbing with its ruthless street vendors and brothels on every corner, Sodom was frightening. Several times they saw fights break out for no perceivable reason. They saw one man beaten to unconsciousness and then robbed because he interrupted a conversation to ask directions. The two learned that to make eye contact was to invite an unwanted advance or to risk violence. In Gomorrah the violence was implied, under the surface; in Sodom, it was as close as a wrong gesture. Twice Rembrandt had to offer a display of fists to keep a too-interested man away. They stayed to themselves and kept moving.

A handful of New Yokohaman money bought them some bread and mildly pungent cheese from a vendor, and they wolfed it down without dignity in the middle of the street. No one seemed to notice or care. This was a town of appetites, and something as simple as being hungry for food was invisible to the jaded eyes of Sodom.

As the two approached the east gate about 3:00 p.m., neither wanted to give voice to their worries. There was no south gate in Sodom, as the town extended down to the water’s edge, so they would either have to find Lot here or start the dangerous task of asking how to find him.

When they reached the gate, Rembrandt stopped in his tracks. Sitting on a high stool in the shade of the towering parapet, chatting with two men, was a man in his fifties who was dressed richly but in a style unlike the people of Sodom and Gomorrah. His robe was long, simple, and spoke of the practicality of life in the wilderness. Arturo stopped and followed his friend’s gaze. Even he, who disdained such intangibles as intuition, sensed this was Lot.

The man laughed at a joke, and then his eyes caught the two strangers staring at him. As he looked at them, his face opened with surprise, then grew serious. He stood as Rembrandt led the way up to him. “Lot?” he said quietly.

The man looked at Rembrandt, then Arturo. He glanced away, then nodded a farewell to his companions. He gestured towards a palatial house just inside the gate. “Please, honored guests, come into my home.” He turned and walked towards the house. Rembrandt and Arturo shared a long, curious gaze, then followed.

The house was surrounded by a stout brick wall ten feet high, but the reinforced wooden front gate was thrown open wide for the day. There was a small garden, then a sturdy, double front door that was also open to the afternoon sun. As Lot stepped through the threshold of his house, he clapped his hands, and two young female servants appeared. “Water, food, and wine for our guests.” The servants nodded and disappeared. He turned and gestured towards a room off to the left. “Please, ask whatever you want, and we’ll provide it for you if we can.” He led the way into the room, which was decorated more like a lavish tent than a permanent mansion. Pillows and rich tapestries were gathered around a small hearth where a tea cauldron waited. Lot gestured for them to sit, then took his place at the master’s seat before the unlit hearth.

Rembrandt and Arturo sat opposite him as the servants appeared with trays of breads, cold meats and fruits, goblets and pitchers of wine and water. One started a fire in the small hearth and filled the tea cauldron with water. They disappeared as silently as they had appeared.

The two Sliders regarded their host, who seemed to be waiting for them to say something. Rembrandt finally broke the silence. “You were expecting us.”

Lot nodded solemnly. “I had a dream this morning that was unlike any dream I’ve ever had before. A great being of light told me that I should be at the gate earlier than my usual evening visit, as two men would come to me, and I was to make them welcome and do their bidding.”

Rembrandt and Arturo acknowledged his words. They each thought of Rembrandt’s dream. For Rembrandt, this was confirmation that he was on the right track; for Arturo, it was further evidence that there was something terribly wrong with the water in this place.

Rembrandt wasn’t too keen on pretending to be an angel, but he couldn’t ignore the divine tone of the calling card that had introduced them. He said neutrally, “Well, the news isn’t good. You have to pack up your family and be ready to leave tonight, because tomorrow morning God’s going to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah.”

Lot’s brow furrowed. “Which god?”

Rembrandt glared at him in disbelief. “What do you mean, which god? God! _The_ God. The God of your uncle, Abraham.” He shook his head. “‘Which god?’” Lot looked more embarrassed than chastened. “This place is going down in flames tomorrow, and if you don’t want to end up a piece of charcoal, you gotta get out of here.”

Lot sat in silence for a few moments. Rembrandt was expecting a strong reaction from him over this highly heralded warning of impending doom. But the man wasn’t jumping into gear. He wasn’t doing much of anything. All he was doing was looking around sadly at the comfort and wealth that surrounded him. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

Lot’s pout grew a bit deeper. “Can you put it off a day or two?”

Rembrandt let out a sigh of disgust. “No, we can’t put it off a day or two. You leave tonight, or you don’t leave at all. You hear me?” Rembrandt heard the strident tones of his Sunday school teacher Mrs. Taylor coming out of his mouth, but at this point he didn’t really care. He shook his head. “Put if off. What’s wrong with you? I know what’s wrong with you. You been living in this town too long.” He picked up a cold chicken breast and took an angry bite out of it.

Lot turned a forlorn gaze to Arturo. “Is there nothing I can do to change the Lord’s mind? At least for a day or two?”

Arturo regarded him for a moment. He had been intent on staying out of this, but being forced to choose between his compatriot and this sorry man of inaction was no choice at all. “I believe the only thing I can say at this point is ‘you arms too short to box with God.’” Rembrandt gave him a small smile, and Arturo returned a sympathetic glance.

Lot contemplated this sadly, then with little energy clapped his hands together. “Then there’s nothing to be done except get ready to go.”

Suddenly from around the corner appeared a short, round woman in her late forties dressed in the finest Gomorran apparel and draped with an impressive display of jewelry. “Husband! What are you doing!? Who are these two that you would throw away everything we own simply because they tell us to?” A servant girl entered to answer Lot’s call, but his wife turned her around and pushed her out of the room. “Back to the kitchen! We’ll have no nonsense here while I’m the mistress of this household!”

Rembrandt and Arturo looked at the couple as Lot stood to argue with his wife...the future pillar of salt. Lacking as they were in angelic clout, they were going to need everything they had to win over this woman.

Lot, however, needed no angelic intervention. “Wife,” he said firmly.

“Husband,” she said, hands on hips.

“You are the mistress of the household, and I am the master of you. And our daughters. And everything we own. If the Lord has seen fit to send us a warning to leave, we should leave.”

She threw her hands in the air. “You never listen to me. I have no idea why you married me if you had no intention of listening to me.”

“I’m listening to you now,” he countered, “and the longer I listen, the less time we have to pack up whatever we can take with us. If you wish to take nothing, keep talking.”

She turned, her heavy array of gold chains jangling in the rhythm of her agitation. “I should have married one of my own. Mother warned me. Father liked you, but what did he know?” She left in a huff.

Lot looked apologetically at his two guests. “Forgive me. She’s a good woman. High-strung, but a good woman.” A spark of love lit his eyes. “And she was quite a beauty.”

Rembrandt and Arturo nodded, choosing the better part of valor to end the moment.

Lot sat again, then indicated the trays of food. “Please, eat your fill. We’ll have the servants start to pack right away. Where are you taking us?” He clapped his hands to fetch the servants again.

“Well,” Rembrandt answered slowly, “we’re not really taking you anywhere. We’ll all leave here together, and then when we’re safe, you’ll go your way and we’ll go ours.”

“Oh,” their host said thoughtfully as the two servant girls appeared again. “Well, perhaps I have been away too long from my uncle. We’ll go visit him. He should be most impressed with how I’ve increased since we parted company,” he said with an expansive gesture towards the wealth around him. He looked at the servants. “Tell Ona to start packing all the money and clothes and everything we’ll need to travel. We’ll all be leaving tonight before sunset.” The girls seemed baffled. “And fetch my daughters. They’ll need to prepare, too.” The servants left. Lot looked at Rembrandt. “What about their future husbands?”

Rembrandt hesitated. He didn’t remember any sons-in-law. “Yeah, them, too.”

Lot nodded. “I’ll send for them.” He clapped his hands again to summon more servants. “We’ll be ready to go before sunset.”

“Uh,” Rembrandt replied, “well, that’s kind of a problem. We’re expecting two other people to join us. We don’t know when they’re going to be here, and we won’t leave without them.”

Lot didn’t care for the sound of that. “Who are they?”

Arturo answered, “Our comrades.”

“Can’t they take care of themselves? It won’t be safe to leave after sunset.”

“We’re not leaving until they both arrive,” Arturo stated.

Lot contemplated this, then sighed. “Well, we’ll just make sure the servants are well armed.” He indicated the food again. “Please, eat. I insist.”

Arturo picked up a rather delectable slice of cold roasted pork. “As you wish.”

Quinn was heading down a street he remembered from the day before when he suddenly caught sight of Diehdan’s shop up ahead. He saw two servants on the front porch. He couldn’t risk being seen, not when he was so close to finding Wade and getting out of town safely. He headed back. It would take a four-block detour to get past safely, but it was worth the extra ten minutes. He rounded the corner and headed for the back way.

Wade sat in the prison of the room, then paced. But when she realized someone might hear her anxious steps, she sat again. And waited. And thought.

She didn’t want to think, because everything that was going wrong was her fault. Her mistakes and misjudgments rolled through her head in an endless loop. Every single choice she had made was exactly the wrong one. She shouldn’t have insisted they enter Gomorrah. Instead of coming with Ani to the brothel, she should have thanked him for his help and dashed back to Diehdan’s father’s shop and collected the others. Once she was in the brothel, she shouldn’t have stayed, she should have gone back with Opah to wait for Quinn. Once she decided to stay in the brothel, she shouldn’t have tried to befriend Ani, but she couldn’t resist trying to figure him out. Once she befriended him, she should never have tried to make him see that the life he was leading was self-destructive, but she forced open his eyes and made him look at the sordidness around him. And once she’d forced him to see what he’d become, she should never, _ever_ have...become so involved. But involved she was.

She sighed and smoothed the covers on Ani’s side of the bed. She liked him a lot and cared about what happened to him, but he’d fallen for her like a ton of bricks, and now he was being beaten because he couldn’t do his job and he was risking much worse—probably even his life—all because of her. She did _not_ want to think about it.

She could feel her journal in her jacket pocket as it rested against her leg. Yeah, well, sum up this world in four or five paragraphs. Why not start with “Sodom and Gomorrah Earth was where I discovered how easy it was to get someone killed and that I could be just as low and despicable as any bottom-feeding scum the Bible had to offer.”

In her other pocket rested the small loaves of bread and the other uneaten food from her breakfast. She couldn’t stomach it yet, but she might not have a chance to get more food before they slid. Oh, God, the slide. She _had_ to get out of there. But she couldn’t risk being caught trying to sneak out. She had to trust Ani...again. So, she sat, with only the silence and her thoughts to keep her company.

Suddenly the door thumped hard against the table, and Wade jumped to her feet. The door slammed against the table again, this time knocking it over. The door burst open, revealing a posse of three house slave boys and seven or eight girls. Wade backed away from their shout of triumph, but there was nowhere to go and in a moment she was latched between two of the boys and dragged out of the room.

She fought against her captors as she was pulled down the hallways, but the jeering crowd surrounded her completely as they led her in disgrace. Some of the girls poked her and taunted her with insults, and when she tried to kick at one to keep her away, she tripped and was dragged some distance before she could regain her footing.

Wade was pulled into the room that had held last night’s party. Everyone from the House of Abneer had been gathered for this, and she was cast by her captors into the center of the crowd. She looked around at the assemblage, the kitchen slaves and house slaves and prostitutes. From their mask-like faces, she would never know who had turned her in. Not that it mattered. This was Gomorrah; she could expect nothing less than this.

A figure stepped forward through the crowd, and everyone moved back. He was fat, greasy, dressed in gaudy clothes and gaudier jewelry. A bulging money pouch hung on one side of his sagging belt, and a jeweled knife and scabbard drooped on the other. He sneered with curiosity as he eyed her up and down like a juicy piece of meat. He could only be Abneer.

“So,” he said in an oily tone, “this is Ani’s little secret.” Only then did Wade see Ani in the group behind Abneer. He was standing abjectly, his eyes cast down. He tried to look at her, but he couldn’t. He looked like a whipped dog. Her heart broke for him. This was the comeuppance Yasmi had foreseen for him but couldn’t prevent. Abneer said, “This is why my shorn little sheep can’t service his customers properly, and why things became so festive last night.” He took a hold of Wade’s chin, but she snapped free and glared at him. “I hope you enjoyed your stay here, because you’re about to be given your bill.” She tried not to shudder.

“Abneer,” Ani said in a low, but firm, voice.

Abneer turned and regarded his slave with a theatrical look of surprise. “What, there’s life in you still?”

“She’s done nothing against you.”

Abneer’s small eyes narrowed as he started counting off on his chubby fingers: “She ate my food without paying. She stayed in my house, used my slaves, my water, my beds and bed linens, all without paying. She presided over an orgy of my slaves. She had sex with one of my most expensive slaves, without paying, of course, and rendered him totally useless, thereby angering one of my most faithful and generous customers. Oh, yes, she has done much against me.”

There was a growing determination in Ani’s gaze at Abneer as he spoke. “She had nothing to do with what happened this morning.” He didn’t take his steely eyes off Abneer as he made the smallest of nods towards Wade. “It would take more than that to render me useless.” A few chuckles from the group were quickly suppressed. Wade clenched her jaw tight but kept her anger inside. She may not have liked his comment, but she understood what he was doing. “And any food she ate, or linens that she soiled, I will be very happy to pay for.”

Abneer turned and faced his truculent slave, his hands on his broad hips. Ani was not backing down, and Abneer didn’t like it. “You don’t have enough money to pay me. And I will take payment out of your flesh, slave, if you say another word.”

Ani said, “You owe me, Abneer.”

“I _own_ you, slave.”

Ani was rising to meet his master’s indignation. He said with barely suppressed anger, “You owe me nearly enough money to buy my freedom.” Abneer stared at him. “I know how much you’re really charging for me. It’s three times what you’ve told me. My share of my real price would almost buy my freedom.”

Abneer eyed him sharply. “How could I lie to you? Why would you think that?”

Ani said pointedly, “Because I can read.” A gasp of surprise went up from the others. “I’ve seen the accounts. I know the truth.”

Wade’s heart sank as she realized he must be playing his ace—and it would as easily kill him as save him.

Abneer stroked his chin thoughtfully as he turned to speak to the group as much as to Ani. “So, you can read and you never told me. You’ve been lying to me all along. We shall have a very interesting time learning what else you’ve been lying to me about.” He looked at Bradur and another of the male prostitutes, who were standing on either side of Ani. “Hold him.”

Bradur hesitated for a second, but he and the other boy grabbed Ani’s arms. Ani tried to shake them off, but it was of no use. Abneer paced slowly up to face his rebellious slave. “I see punishing you isn’t enough. It’s time to break you. I had hoped that would not be necessary. That spark was one of your greatest selling points. But I was wrong.” He squinted at Ani. “I will deal with you later.” He turned to face Wade. “I will deal with you now.” An unpleasant smile touched his face. “And Ani will have to watch.”

A shudder rattled down Wade’s spine as she tried to take a step away from Abneer. But the crush of people behind her held her in place, and all of a sudden Abneer’s beefy hands were on her, pulling on her jacket collar and pushing her backwards. “Cutting your hair to disguise yourself as a boy didn’t work,” he said in a deep, slicing voice. “I like boys, too.” The slaves parted as Abneer pushed her back, and Wade bumped against a small table against the wall. Abneer pushed her back onto it, and suddenly she was sitting pressed against the edge of the table with Abneer between her legs. She fought against him as he fondled her breasts, but he had her pinned on the table and her struggling only seemed to excite him. He grabbed her crotch and ripped at her clothing, but her jeans held firm against his groping. In an instant, his jeweled dagger was in his hand as he snatched her belt.

She cried out as he yanked on her belt and lowered the dagger to rip apart her clothes. She flinched as his hand jerked back roughly, but the flat side of the dagger bounced harmlessly off her leg as he abruptly let go of her belt. His eyes bulging, he spun away from her. With the sharp sound of fist to flesh, his head snapped back. Shrieks of terror filled the room as he keeled over, hit the edge of the table, and bounced on the floor. Wade looked up to see Ani standing over him, his fist still in the air and a look of horror on his face as he stared down at his master and what he had just done. Terrified cries of “Death!”, “Mot spare us!” and “He’ll kill you!” echoed through the room as the panicked assembly fled in chaos.

Wade fought the trembling in her legs as she slipped off the table and knelt by Abneer’s still form. He was unconscious but breathing, and the glance off the table only cost him a scratch that was hardly bleeding. He’d live. She looked up at Ani.

He had not moved. As he stared at his master, he knew he was looking at his own death. Wade took a deep breath. Now was not the time for philosophizing about actions and their consequences. She scooped up Abneer’s fallen dagger, then noticed the heavy money pouch still attached to his belt. She grabbed it, and, with a smooth stroke of the sharp blade, sliced the belt open. She slipped off the money pouch and the dagger’s scabbard, then slid the weapon inside its home. She dropped the money into one jacket pocket and the dagger into the other.

Wade stood next to Ani, who was frozen in place. She shook him roughly to get his attention. “Ani!” He didn’t react. She shook him harder, and she finally got his eyes on her. She brushed away the terror that poured out of those eyes and said firmly, “Do you want to live, or do you want to die? If you want to die, stay right here. But if you want to live, come with me!” She yanked on his sleeve, and he staggered a half step. She pulled again, and this time he followed a few paces, then stopped. She grabbed his hand. “Come on! We have to go _now_!” Finally, he heard her words, and he numbly let her pull him out of the room.

The hallway was deserted as she led the way. Ahead in a doorway she saw one of the house boys who had dragged her off to Abneer, and he looked as if he was thinking of being loyal to his master and trying to stop her. She was on an adrenaline rush and would not be stopped. She pulled Abneer’s dagger out of its scabbard and pointed it at him as they approached. “Try it.” The boy stepped back and let the two pass.

Wade reached the open front door. A cold breeze was blowing in. The weather was turning for the worse. Ani would need more than his caftan on their journey. She marched into a side room and looked for a jacket or cape or whatever these people wore. She stopped when she saw Opah hiding in a corner. She pointed at Ani. “He needs traveling clothes.” Keeping a guarded eye on her, Opah hesitated, then slipped away to a cabinet. He pulled out a long, dark brown wool cloak. He handed it towards her gingerly, and she gave it a quick assessment as she took it from him. It would do. She looked at the frightened slave, then took a step towards him, which only made him flinch back away from her. She looked down at the dagger she still clenched in her fist and put it in her pocket. “Opah,” she said as calmly as her adrenaline would let her, “if you value your life, get out of here. Get out of Gomorrah. Get as far away as you can. Tell Yasmi. Tell the others. Tell all of them to leave as fast as they can and not look back.” He nodded slightly, but the alarm in his eyes said he was agreeing just to get rid of her. “Please,” she said as she put a hand on his arm, “run, run and don’t look back. After dawn tomorrow, Abneer won’t be able to hurt you. You’ll be free. But only if you run to the hills.”

She couldn’t read his eyes through their glaze of fear. She stepped out into the hallway to see if Yasmi was around, but the place was empty. She looked back at Opah and gave him another significant nod, hoping she was getting through to him and that he’d pass on the message. She’d done the best she could. And, well, she couldn’t save everyone. She led Ani outside.

Out on the street, she looked around. The sun was behind the clouds, and she couldn’t tell where it was. “Which way’s north?” Ani didn’t reply. “We have to get to Sodom.”

“I thought you said it was going to be destroyed, too.”

She turned at the sound of how small his voice was. He looked utterly destroyed. He knew he was dead. His actual execution was merely a formality.

Wade had no time for this. She had no intention of giving up. If she was going down, it would be in flames if not in glory. She shook his sleeve. “Come on, snap out of it. We have a long way to go, and I don’t think I can drag you the whole way.”

Her attempt at humor got his attention, but not a smile. He nodded down the street. “The ferry to Sodom is that way.”

“Good.” She tossed the cloak at him, and as it bounced off his chest he caught it. “Come on. We have to hurry.” She led the way down the street.


	8. Chapter 8

The argument rolled and churned like a brewing ocean storm throughout Lot’s house. Each wave was met with a counter wave, but then a new storm-tossed crest would arise. Lot’s wife was on a rampage, alternately sulking in her rooms and coming out to give her husband one in a continuing series of lectures on what an idiot he was. To each lecture, he listened in silence and let her vent until she returned to her rooms. Lot’s daughters, who struck both Rembrandt and Arturo as lacking even the most basic common sense, wailed about having to leave their friends. Lot reminded them that their betrotheds were invited and were sure to come along. The daughters complained about the short notice. Lot reminded them that taking time to complain only made their preparation time shorter. The daughters demanded proof that they needed to leave, more time to decide what to take, and an explanation for why they wouldn’t be coming back. Lot offered answers to all their concerns, but they weren’t sufficient, and the daughters found more to complain about. So, the servants dashed about the house trying to fulfill contradictory orders and stay out of the way of Lot’s wife, who would sometimes emerge from her room, punch a servant if he got within arm’s reach, and then disappear back inside.

Rembrandt and Arturo stayed out of it as best they could, sitting quietly by the front room’s open hearth and pouring tea for each other. They tried hard to remind themselves that saving this family was an honorable thing, and perhaps, with their help, they would escape the dreadful fates of their counterparts on their own Earth. However, as the elder daughter stamped her foot and told her father for the hundredth time that this wasn’t fair, each of the Sliders had to admit that the idea of letting the women stay behind was gaining appeal.

Finally, the two visitors had had enough, and they escaped outside. The entire complex of buildings was backed by the stout city walls, and between the main house and the wall was a well-tended garden. Flowers, fruit trees, and a pleasant fish pond offered a welcome respite from the familial discord in the house. The two sat on a bench under a fig tree.

Rembrandt said, “Lot’s putting together a whole caravan. He’s trying to take just about everything he owns. That’s going to slow us down a lot.”

“It will help with security, though,” Arturo countered. “Safety in numbers. But I fear it will also raise a lot of suspicion. This is a suspicious town, and a caravan leaving near sunset might be a tempting target.”

“In the Bible, they didn’t take anything.”

“It’s not our responsibility to make this situation match that one. Each world is unique.” A crescendo from a filial tirade erupted from the house. Arturo sighed. “And the more quickly we distance ourselves from this unique Earth, the happier I’ll be.”

“Yeah, Quinn and Wade better hurry. I’m not sure I can take much more of those daughters.”

A small, satisfied smile lit Arturo’s face. “My only joy at this point is from imagining what their faces will look like when we open the vortex.”

“They’re going to think we’re angels for sure.”

“Heaven help me if I don’t turn to them just as I jump in and say, ‘I’d say hello to God for you, but I’m afraid He’s never heard of you two and your mother.’”

Rembrandt shook his head, but he had to chuckle. “That’s bad, Professor. Real bad. Fun. But bad.”

They pondered the prank for another several moments, then settled in for more waiting. Arturo checked his watch. “I wish they’d get here.”

As Quinn approached the House of Abneer, something seemed wrong. In fact, just about everything seemed wrong. The usual array of prostitutes on the front porch was missing. The only person he could see was a dejected young woman sitting on the steps. He had a very bad feeling about this. As he walked towards her, she caught sight of him and leapt to her feet in terror. “What are you doing back here!?”

He held out his hands placatingly. “I’m not Ani.”

Yasmi looked at him hard, then blinked with wonder. She sat back down on the step with a weary sigh. “You must be Quinn.”

He hoped she was a friend. He asked urgently, “Where’s Wade?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. She’s gone.”

“She’s _what!?_ Where? When did she go?”

“Not long.”

Quinn couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This was a nightmare. “You don’t have any idea where she went?”

She shook her head. “Ani went with her. I don’t know where they went.”

His mind raced. If she had Ani with her, she was probably heading to Sodom. If he hurried, he might be able to catch up with them.

Yasmi continued, “All I know is they’re not coming back here. Well, until he comes back with a chain around his neck.”

“What do you mean?”

She looked at him. “To save your friend Wade, Ani...embraced death. And held on hard.” Quinn didn’t understand, but he didn’t like the sound of it. “Abneer,” she shook her head again wearily, “he’s out looking for him. He has everyone out looking for him. He put a price on his head of _half a talent of gold_.” She shook her head in disbelief. “ _Everyone_ will be looking for Ani.” She eyed Quinn. “I’d be very careful if I were you.”

Quinn rubbed his very dangerous face. “Okay. Thanks. Did Wade say anything before she left?”

“Only that we should run to the hills. What did she mean by that?”

Quinn took a step away from her, eager to be on his way. “She likes you. And you should be as far away as you can get by dawn tomorrow. And _not_ towards Sodom.”

He tried to leave, but she held him back with, “If you see Ani, tell him...tell him I tried to help.” She looked away sadly. “But there was nothing I could do.”

He nodded, then turned and ran up the street.

Wade and Ani moved down the narrow side street as quickly as they could without drawing attention to themselves. It was getting colder, and Ani had put on the heavy cloak. Its dark color matched his mood. He said nothing as they walked, indicating which streets they should turn down simply by turning. Wade couldn’t begin to imagine what he was thinking. But she’d knew what type of execution was awaiting him if Abneer ever got his hands on him. She’d do everything she could to prevent that.

They rounded another corner and caught side of a group of three soldiers coming towards them. They took one look at Ani and one shouted, “That’s him!” In a flash, Ani grabbed Wade’s hand and ran back around the corner. There was a small alley two buildings down from the corner, but it was a dead end and even though it was dark in the gloomy afternoon light, all the hiding places it offered were too obvious. However, there was a dark crevice between two buildings in the back of the alley. Ani pushed Wade into it, then just barely managed to wedge himself into the narrow opening between her and the street. With his dark hair and dark cloak, he’d be nearly invisible from the alley—she hoped, anyway. She held her breath as she heard footfalls rush past. She couldn’t see Ani’s face, but pressed against his chest she could feel his heart pounding. The footfalls went past again, then stopped. “By Asherah, I swear it was magic! I saw him come in here!” It was hard for Wade to tell in the confined space, but, from the sound of their voices, she guessed they were no more than ten feet away.

“Who was that with him?” a second soldier asked.

“I didn’t see,” the third soldier said. “She didn’t look Gomorran.”

The first soldier said, “If Diehdan finds out we lost him when he was so close, she’ll have our heads.”

“Which of us is stupid enough to tell her?” the second soldier asked flatly. “Come on, he must have gone down farther.” Retreating footfalls were followed by silence.

Wade’s mind whirled in confusion. Diehdan? ...Those soldiers couldn’t have been looking for them. They must have been looking for Quinn! Oh, brother, what had he done now?

There was more silence in the alley, and finally Wade whispered, “I think they’re gone.” Ani turned his head to look, then nodded. He tried to step back out, but he couldn’t. He tried to move again, but he was wedged in too tightly. In a sheepish voice, he said, “I think I’m stuck.”

She rolled her eyes. It sure was a good thing she wasn’t claustrophobic. She put her hands on his chest. “Okay, work with me on this.” She pushed hard against him a few times, then with a yelp of pain he staggered back into the alley. He rubbed his elbow as Wade stepped out into the light. “Sorry about that. But did you hear what they said? Those soldiers weren’t looking for us. They were looking for Quinn.”

He looked at his elbow, which had only a small scrape. “He must have disappointed her very dearly.”

She hadn’t thought of that. “But that means we have to outrun both Abneer’s people and Diehdan’s people.”

She could see the dark realization of the growing impossibility settle over Ani’s face, but all he did was step back and gesture towards the mouth of the alley. “Then we should hurry.” She joined him, and they walked quickly out onto the street and blended into the traffic.

As Wade followed Ani’s urgent pace, she checked her watch surreptitiously, grumbling as it still showed the time they had arrived on this Godforsaken Earth. Her instincts told her it had to be past 3:00, and depending on how difficult it would be to get to Sodom, they were probably going to run out of daylight before they got there. She really didn’t want to travel through that city at night. “How often do the ferries run between Sodom and Gomorrah?”

“During the day in the busy season, every half lamp. This time of year, not so often.”

“‘Half lamp’? How long is a lamp? I mean, how many lamps are there in a day?”

“Ten.”

She did a quick calculation. A lamp was 2.4 hours. She really didn’t want to wait around for that long if they just missed a ferry. They were much too visible, and much too vulnerable. “Do they have a regular schedule?”

“Yes, but they don’t usually follow it.”

She looked at Ani to see if she could figure out how he was doing. He wasn’t as numb as he had been earlier, but he didn’t seem all that hopeful, either. Resigned? Determined? Switched off? She couldn’t tell. He was behind those very effective defenses again. Time to move on to more practical matters for the time being. “Have you ever heard of Lot? You don’t by some wild chance know where he lives, do you?”

“Yes, he lives just inside the east gate of Sodom.”

She blinked. “You’ve been there?”

“Not inside his house, but I’ve gone past it many times. When my parents and I moved over from Talan, we had our produce stand just outside the east gate. I know that area very well.”

They turned a corner. “Wow, that’s great. That’ll come in han—”

Wade froze. Up ahead coming right towards them was a patrol of at least six soldiers. They hadn’t spotted them yet, but they would in a few moments. She glanced around, and to her left she saw a small, seedy tavern. She quickly pushed Ani inside.

In the open, dingy room were rows of tables filled with drunken patrons talking loudly, singing, and generally carrying on in a manner suitable for drunken tavern patrons. She scanned the room. There were no dark corners or private booths, but this might be a safe.... Her heart sank. One whole long table was occupied by soldiers drinking and eating. She quickly turned away from them and pulled Ani around to face the other way. There was a rickety staircase by the door that led up to a second floor. She saw a man who looked like he might be the owner and stepped up to him, keeping her back to the soldiers. “We need a room,” she said with authority. Ani blinked but remained silent.

The tavernkeeper eyed her up and down with a smirk. “It’ll cost you. Everything is taken except our very best room.”

Yeah, right, she thought. She remembered Abneer’s money pouch, then pulled it out of her pocket. She had no idea what the coin denominations were, so she handed the purse to Ani. “Pay him.”

With unsteady hands, Ani took his owner’s stolen money pouch and gave the tavernkeeper the sum he demanded. The tavernkeeper bowed to her with something that passed for respect. He stepped aside to show them the way upstairs when Wade thought of something else. “Oh. We’ll need food, too. Have it sent up.”

The tavernkeeper looked at Ani, who still held the purse. He took out the right coin and handed it over. The tavernkeeper nodded. “Our very best will be sent up immediately.” He turned and found a barmaid to relay the food order.

As they waited, Wade glanced around discreetly at the soldiers. They were busy with their meal and hadn’t noticed them...yet. She headed for the stairs.

Suddenly, there was a dapper townsman standing in front of them. He was gazing at Ani intently. Wade froze, and Ani stiffened defensively. He was a civilian, but Wade didn’t recognize him. He had a black eye and a cut on one cheek; he looked like he’d lost a short but thorough fight. He stared at Ani, examining him, then he nodded familiarly. Wade noticed that Ani seemed to recognize the man, and while he stood down from his defensive posture, he didn’t relax.

“It _is_ you this time,” the man said as he gazed at the slave with a mix of relief and a chilling affection. “And you really did shave your beard.” Wade looked at Ani, who had his best poker face on. He gave the slightest of nods in acknowledgment. Wade guessed this was one of the customers Ani had grown the beard to discourage. “Last night I had a disagreeable time with a counterfeit,” he said, indicating his face. Wade suppressed a surprised reaction. Well, Quinn certainly seemed to have cut quite the swath of disappointment and destruction across Gomorrah. The man eyed Ani with a palpable desire, but then he frowned at him and Wade. “What are you doing out of the brothel?”

Ani hesitated in silence, but Wade answered quickly, “If I pay more, I get to choose the place. That Abneer, he never misses a trick to make more money, does he?” She gave the townsman a knowing nod.

The man nodded with understanding, then returned his attention to Ani. Hunger was flowing out of his eyes. “It’s been a long time.” Ani didn’t react. The man devoured him with his eyes for a few more moments, then relented with a side glance towards Wade. “So, I’ll ask for you tonight at Abneer’s.”

“I won’t be there,” Ani said simply.

The man looked at Wade. “All night? You must be rich!”

“A birthday present from my brother,” she answered easily.

“I wish I had such a brother,” the man said, returning his hungry gaze to Ani. He looked at the slave for a few moments, then said quietly, “Tomorrow, then.” Ani’s only response was a slight nod. The man let a smile linger on the object of his desire, then nodded to Wade and went back to his seat at one of the tables. The two stood in a still silence for a few moments, then unkinked a notch when the tavernkeeper reappeared and led them up the stairs.

The room wasn’t much, a raftered garret with a seedy-looking bed and a table and chairs. A small window overlooked the main street. Wade nodded her thanks to be rid of the tavernkeeper, then, as he started to leave, he held the door open for the maid bringing bread and cold meats. As the girl was heading for the door, Ani spoke with her quietly, and she nodded before she left. Wade went to the window to see if the soldiers were still on the street below. They were talking casually outside the door. This tavern seemed to be their off-duty headquarters. What a mistake! Well, at least the soldiers would never think to look for them here—no one could possibly be stupid enough to hide out in their home away from home.

She jumped at a quiet knock on the door, but Ani opened it for the maid, who brought in a tray with three bowls, a pitcher of water, some soap and a towel. She set the tray on the table and left. “Good idea,” Wade said as she picked up the pitcher and poured some of the water into two of the bowls. She wet her hands, then picked up the soap and to scrub off the ugly day’s grime. It was a hard, lye soap, but it still felt good to be clean. She rinsed in the second bowl, then dried her hands and sat down at the table in front of the food. She figured the third bowl must be for scraps or something.

She was debating whether or not to be polite and wait for Ani before she began eating when she saw him dip his hands deep into the bowl of clear water and drench his face. He picked up the lump of soap and scrubbed his face, hard. He rinsed himself over the soapy bowl, then, to her surprise, he bit off a chunk of the soap and began to chew. “Hey,” she said, “don’t do that. That stuff’ll eat your insides out.” He ignored her as he winced at the bitter taste and chewed on the soap, then lifted a handful of soapy water to his mouth and swirled the mixture around. He spat the water out into the bowl, then repeated the rinse and spit over and over again. A chill went down Wade’s spine as she realized this had nothing to do with hygiene. “Ani,” she said quietly, “what are you doing?” He ignored her, intent on his cleansing. As he continued his endless repetitions, his intensity began to scare her. “...What are you doing? What happened to you?” She shuddered as the thought occurred to her. “...What did Abneer do to you?”

He seemed to react to the question, but instead of answering he turned away as his face flushed and he grabbed the third bowl. He vomited into it.

She jumped to her feet. “Ani!”

He quietly spat the last of the purged debris from his mouth, then put the bowl on the floor. He knelt over the receptacle as he rinsed his mouth with clear water, then spat into the bowl.

Wade put a hand on his shoulder as he rinsed out his mouth one last time and spat it out. She didn’t mean to intrude, but she couldn’t help but look at the bowl’s contents. It was an odd, pale mix of white and a bile green. It resembled curdled milk. She squeezed his shoulder tensely at the nauseating sight. “God, did he give you poison?” He stood, not looking at her. She pulled on his shoulder to force him to meet her eyes. When he did finally look at her, she shuddered. His gaze was cold, dead. He had retreated behind the well-shielded professional façade. His face’s hardness made her look away. She’d pushed him too far, again. Of course, she knew what he’d forced out of his body. Before she’d been brought into the room, Abneer must have given him “a Lesson.” Shamefaced, she sat quietly at the table. He put the towel over the vomit bowl, then sat down.

She distracted herself by looking at the food. At least it didn’t look spoiled. She picked up a slice of beef and put it on a piece of bread. “Come on, eat up. We’re going to need our strength.” He gazed at the food, and her quick glance revealed his efforts to force his stomach to settle down after its upheaval. “Come on, we’ve only got a few minutes. We’re going to wait until there’s a lull in the soldier action downstairs, and then we’re going to sneak out of here. We have to get to the ferry as soon as possible.” He forced himself to pick up a slice of bread.

She put another slice of bread on top of her makeshift sandwich. To her surprise, it was shaking. Earthquake? She held the food out to look at it, and her hands were shaking. She put the sandwich down, but the trembling had spread to her arms. She stared at her runaway flesh. “What’s wrong with me?” She tucked her hands under her arms to force them still, but to her horror she realized she was now trembling from head to foot. “My God, my God, Ani...?”

He put down his bread and shifted his chair closer to her, stopping when their knees touched. He held out his hands. Reluctantly, she freed her quivering hands and gave them to him. He rubbed them gently. “It’s all right. Your body is letting go of its fear.”

“What are you talking about?” She was terrified at her body’s inexplicable rebellion.

He tightened his gentle grasp as her trembling escalated. “Not even half a lamp ago you were almost raped.” He added darkly, “And I know Abneer, that would have been only the beginning.”

Her shivering shook her chest and her voice. “...But...I was fine....”

He stroked her hands. “You are fine. You simply saved this until it was safe. If you weren’t afraid, I’d be concerned about you.” There was a hint of his old playfulness in his voice, but she was a poor audience for it.

She tried to control her reaction, but it would not be denied. “We don’t...have...time for this....”

With a gentle motion, he let go of her hands and scooped her into his lap. Taking her into a comforting embrace, he soothed, “We’ll be safe here for now, and when you’re ready to travel again, we’ll go.”

She had no idea how he could be so reassuring, especially after how he’d been a minute earlier, but she was grateful for it. She closed her eyes and fought a losing battle with her trembling body.

Quinn approached the pier camouflaged within a crowd of merrymakers. He could see the docked ferry filling up, and halfway out in the mouth of the Golden Gate—the Pillars of Baal—he could see another ferry under sail plugging along towards Sodom. It was too far away to make out individuals on board. He scanned the people on this ferry and those waiting in line, and he saw no one who looked even remotely like Wade or Ani. He looked at his watch. It was quarter past four, two hours since he’d left the House of Abneer. Assuming that they’d been delayed by as many near-misses with soldiers as he had, it would be logical that they were on the ferry en route. He didn’t want to risk asking the toll taker about them, but he had little choice.

As he reached the head of the line, he stepped to the side and asked the toll taker as casually as he could, “I was supposed to meet some friends here, but I don’t see them. I think they’re on the ferry out there, but I’m not sure.”

The toll taker was concentrating on the coins being handed to him by the merrymakers and didn’t look at Quinn as he said, “What did they look like? Everyone has to go past me to get on the boat.”

“Well,” Quinn said, forcing a casual air into his words, “the woman is young, short, with short, dark hair, dressed like me, and the man...looks like me, like my brother.”

The toll taker glanced up at Quinn, then thought for a few moments. “Looks like you, eh? You know, there have been a lot of people coming through here today asking about someone who looks just like you.” Quinn tried not to react when the man glanced at his right wrist. “And I’ll tell you, _a lot_ of people come through here during a day. It’s so hard to remember just one or two.” Quinn frowned, recognizing his slow wind-up to a pitch for a bribe. The man shrugged as he went back to concentrating on collecting the fares. “It would be a shame if, for instance, you didn’t know which ferry they’d gone on simply because of, oh, the small sum of two shekels.”

Quinn had been paying attention to the coins changing hands, and he knew he just barely had enough money to cover his fare. But he also knew that admitting that would get him less than nothing. “So,” he said, playing as innocent as he could, “for two shekels you’d tell me how long ago they came through here?”

“And what they were wearing and what they were saying as they came through.”

Quinn had to play this carefully. “But what if I didn’t have two shekels extra? Then you wouldn’t tell me how big a head start they have on me?”

The man shrugged, giving him only the slightest glance up from his coin collecting. “There are _so many_ people, I don’t know if I could remember exactly which ferry it was....”

The last of the people in line passed, and Quinn could see the ferry crew getting ready to leave. He had to make a guess and stick with it, hoping he was still behind them. He looked at the toll taker with regret and put in his hand the exact fare. “I guess I’ll just have to find them on my own. Thanks for your help.”

The toll taker offered the smallest of frowns as he dropped Quinn’s coins into the till. Quinn examined him for any sort of reaction, any little detail that might tell him something, but there was none. He reluctantly followed the rest of passengers and got onto the ferry.


	9. Chapter 9

Wade’s attack of trembling finally subsided about forty-five minutes later, and Ani found out from a serving girl that there was a back way out. They collected their food and slipped out the back unnoticed by the soldiers.

In another thirty minutes, they were at the dock for the ferry. Thank goodness, one had recently arrived, so they wouldn’t have to wait. A cold mist had begun to fall, and Wade could see that the ferry’s canopied section was already full. It was twilight now, and if Quinn was in there, she couldn’t see him. But she would have a better view once they got on board.

She handed the money pouch to Ani so he could retrieve the right coins, and soon they were standing in front of the toll taker. The man took their fares, but then, after he glanced at them, he did a double take. He looked hard at Ani, which made both travelers hold their breaths. The toll taker nodded. “A great many people have been asking about you. A great many people. And recently.”

Wade said flatly, “He’s a popular guy.”

The toll taker nodded. Wade noticed he glanced towards Ani’s right wrist, but it was concealed by the dark cloak. “One of them was your brother.” Wade tried to hide her surprise, but the toll taker spotted her reaction. “Now,” he said slowly, “if only I could remember what he said....” Wade frowned as she knew where this was going. “It seemed so important, too. If only I had something to spur my memory....”

She thought the business end of Abneer’s dagger would make an excellent spur, but she decided against it.

The man stroked his chin with an overdone gesture, and Wade noticed him glance towards several buildings behind them. To her eyes, his gaze looked more calculating than thoughtful. “If only I could remember where he said he’d be waiting for you....”

Wade looked back at the buildings, which were real dives. This man was good, but Wade knew something he didn’t. Even if Quinn waited around for her, he would never reveal his location to a stranger. She guessed waiting in those buildings were soldiers or others interested in whatever bounty Diehdan had put on Quinn...or people who were looking for Ani. Probably both. The toll taker would claim a hefty share of the reward for directing them into a trap. The good news was his surprise at seeing Ani, in addition to his comment about someone asking for them recently, told her that the bounty hunters had arrived after Quinn came through, so he had caught an earlier ferry and was safely out of Gomorrah. They wouldn’t have to rescue him. They would only have to rescue themselves.

She nodded at the toll taker, then looked at Ani and said carefully, “Why don’t we get our places on the boat, and then you can come back and look for your brother? How does that sound?”

He regarded her, then nodded slowly. “Which building?” he asked the toll taker.

“The second one,” he said a little too eagerly.

Wade thanked the man and led the way to the ferry. She had bought a little time. The toll taker would wait rather than dashing off to get his compatriots to haul them off the boat. She prayed the ferry would leave before he noticed that they hadn’t taken the bait so he wouldn’t come after them.

All of the seats in the covered area were taken, so it was going to be a long, wet ride across the mouth of the bay. Ani walked up to the narrow bench right at the empty prow of the boat and sat. Wade sat next to him, and he draped part of his cloak around her to protect her from the drizzle. She didn’t refuse the offer, and she wrapped the end of the cloak tightly around her jacket as she nestled against him for warmth.

Not long after that, the boat’s crew hoisted the sails, and the ferry was away from the pier and moving slowly out across the churning waters. Wade glanced back at the toll taker, who began shouting a stream of obscenities as he ran back to the buildings in vain. By the time he could return with the soldiers, they would be out of earshot on the soggy night, and with the rain and growing fog thick enough to block any visual signals, it would be too late to stop the ferry. She sighed with relief. They had one less set of enemies to worry about.

Wade recognized the familiar tug of the tidal waters as the boat left the wind shadow of the land and headed out across the choppy mouth of the Golden Gate. Something familiar in so alien a place gave her a glimmer of comfort. Plus, the bad weather offered one advantage: The steady wind would give them as fast a passage as the stout ferry could manage.

The far shore couldn’t be seen through the mists and clouds. After a few minutes, the land behind them disappeared. If anyone on board was talking, she couldn’t hear them up at the front of the boat. For the moment, they were alone in the cold, gray world with the boat and the water.

Ani said nothing as the ferry rose and fell through the small whitecaps. Wade noticed that he looked alternately at the prow breaking the waves and over across the bay to the east...his home from long ago. Maybe a distraction would do him some good. “So, you can read, huh?”

Her question startled him out of his reverie. “Yes.”

“You can probably write, too, then?” He nodded. “How did you learn?”

“My mother taught me.”

That surprised her. This didn’t seem like the kind of place where women would be taught such dangerous things as reading and writing. “How did she learn?”

“Her father was one of the scribes at the royal court in Salem. She was his only child.” Wade could hear the emotion gathering in his voice. “And he loved her very much.” He sighed heavily. Wade frowned. So much for a distraction.

He set a mournful gaze on the far shore, then looked down at the prow as it dipped through another wave. “When I was a child,” he said in a small, sad voice, “before my family moved over here, we’d bring produce over to sell in season outside the east gate of Sodom. My father’s best friend had a boat, and he would take us back and forth. I loved riding in that boat. He always had me sit in the front and told me, ‘You be sure to keep a lookout for whales, now!’” His voice cracked on the last words, and when Wade looked at him, she saw tears mingling with the raindrops on his face. She put comforting arms around him under the cloak, and he began to cry as he held on to her. Tears of loss, fear, pain, and grief over what he had become dropped warmly into Wade’s hair. She said nothing, merely staying with him as he poured everything out.

When his tears finally stopped, he pulled back from her with embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s been that kind of a day.” In the diffuse light of the misty night, he looked calmed now, almost as if he’d come to some sort of acceptance. She hoped that was a good thing, but she couldn’t be sure. She remembered her leftover breakfast in her jacket pocket, and she offered him some fruit. He accepted it, and took a thoughtful bite. They settled in for the rest of the journey in silence. Under the warm comfort of the cloak, she held his hand.

As the ferry moved through the waters, this interlude of peace gave Wade time to think. With everything around her obscured by the weather, she could see some things very clearly...whether she wanted to or not. She owed Quinn and the others a huge apology. She’d pretty much been the driving force behind this fiasco. She was the one who wanted to check out the town. She was the one who pushed things onward just a little further, a little further, until all hell broke loose and they were stuck in the middle of it.

Mostly, she owed Quinn a whole string of apologies. She finally understood now what had happened on Meteor World. An extreme situation can do weird things to someone and make him do things he’d never otherwise do. She’d always understood that intellectually, but she didn’t truly comprehend it, and she’d wanted Quinn to own up to that kiss—those kisses—as if they’d been part of a normal circumstance. But they hadn’t been. She really, truly understood that now. She had to. Last night she’d done exactly the same thing with Ani, only to the power of twenty.

When she thought about last night and everything that had happened, she couldn’t quite understand how she’d let herself do all that. Well, of course she did. She’d been seduced. Not by Ani—by the way of life in Gomorrah, by the lack of rules and lack of self-restraint. She’d made love with Ani not because she really wanted to, but because she could. Out of the context of the brothel and the decadence of that city, the idea of having any sort of a relationship with him seemed absurd.

If she had last night to do over again, she would have resisted temptation. It had been very pleasant, but the resulting price was much too high. She was very sorry for what all of this had done to Ani. He was going to pay for the rest of his life for her little walk on the wild side—however long or short his life might be now because of her. Despite his defensive protests to Abneer, she had rendered him useless. His comment had been to protect her, of course, and she thought of Quinn’s playing along with the gatekeeper in the quarantine area on the last world. Of course, Quinn didn’t mean it, either, he was just going along with the man so he’d let them out. She could see that so clearly now. That was another apology she owed him.

But with Ani, she owed him a massive apology...probably one she could never fulfill. She’d pried open his eyes, made him hate what he was, and then forced him to leave everything he knew to come along with her...when he could never actually stay with her. There was no way she could even think about taking him with them when they slid. He could never handle the shock of being plunged through a vortex of light and sound and dropped into whatever world lay ahead of them, one that probably had technology 5,000 years ahead of everything he knew. No, they would have to find a way for him to stay here and yet somehow be safe from Abneer’s wrath and the stigma of being a runaway slave. And she had to square it all away by dawn. She sighed. What a mess.

Facing the outcome of what she’d set in motion on this Earth was tough, but there was no way around it. Normally it would be the cold, clear light of day that would bring such clarity, but, in this strange world, it was the soft darkness of a rainy night that put everything into focus. But now that she’d admitted to herself what she’d done, at least she was heading in the right direction and she could begin to put things right.

She thought about Quinn again, remembering that moment on Meteor World when he’d tried to start up the machinery in the basement and the power surge had shorted out the entire house. The look of terror and defeat on his face had cut through her then, and the memory of it now melted away the last of her anger towards him. He’d worked so desperately for two days straight trying to save them the only way he knew how, and it had just blown up in his face. She had to smile. The poor guy. She thought about that wonderful, spontaneous slow dance in the middle of dinner, and then that kiss. Oh yes, what a kiss. How angry that memory had made her before! But now it only deepened her smile.

She thought about what she’d said to Ani last night about Quinn, about not risking everything they had to pursue something with him. She’d thought she’d been talking about making him responsible for his actions on Meteor World. But now she could see the larger picture. Not only was it inappropriate to push him about what had happened, it was also a major mistake to try to be anything other than friends for the time being. In the face of impending doom on Meteor World, he’d discovered she was more than just his “best bud,” and that had played right into the bit of a crush she’d had on him. Even in the best of circumstances, they’d be a volatile jumble of emotions at this point—and on the precarious journey of sliding, that volatility could be deadly. She had to face the fact that if she hadn’t been so mad at Quinn when they’d arrived here, she wouldn’t have countered his recommendation that they stay outside the city. If she hadn’t been so annoyed with him, she wouldn’t have left with Diehdan yesterday morning—and walked right into Diehdan’s trap. And—she had to admit it—some of what had happened with Ani was because of jealousy and wanting to get back at Quinn. No, it was time to cool things down. She could do that now. Maybe something might happen with Quinn later. But for now, that pleasant memory of the interlude on Meteor World would have to stay just a pleasant memory.

Lights appeared in the mist ahead of the boat, and then she saw the outline of the hills of the north bay. They sat in silence as the ferry lumbered towards the Sodom pier, and after it docked, they waited as the other passengers streamed off. They walked down the plank to the waiting area, where Wade saw many of the passengers settling in. Ani said to her quietly, “Give me the dagger.” She handed it to him, and he gripped it upright in a stern posture, then took her by the hand and headed away from the shelter of the waiting area onto the dark street.

Arturo was pacing agitatedly in the front reception room as another round of arguments between Lot and his daughters commenced by the front door. The girls’ future husbands had decided the offer to accompany the family on its mysterious midnight journey was some sort of strange joke and declined, and this only fueled the daughters’ agitation. Their unsympathetic father was losing patience fast, and the daughters redoubled their efforts in hopes that they could wear him down to the point of relenting. That was only making things worse for participants and innocent bystanders alike.

Arturo growled as he looked at Rembrandt, who was sipping tea and trying to stay calm by the small hearth. “My God, man, they’re not worth saving!”

Rembrandt set down his cup. “Yeah, well, we need them now to get out of this place.”

Arturo growled again and looked out the window towards the front gate. “I wish they’d get here. I don’t like this at all.” He looked at his watch. It was after 8:00. “This is very bad.”

“They’ll be here,” Rembrandt said.

Arturo turned to face Rembrandt, annoyed at his calm certainty. “I wish I could be as confident as you are. I’d like to have Lot send out servants to look for them. Who knows how long it will take them to find this place?”

Rembrandt shook his head. “You know we can’t do that, Professor. You’ve heard what happens to servants who are out after dark without their masters. They’re open game.”

“And so are Quinn and Wade!”

“They’ll _be_ here.”

“If you’re going to try to tell me that they have some sort of angelic protection—”

A shout from the front gate caught their ears. Arturo turned to the window. Quinn was holding onto the bars of the gate, calling their names. Arturo was out of the reception room in a flash and hurried to the gate, Lot’s major domo in tow.

Quinn had never been so happy to see a familiar face. “Professor!”

“Open the gate, man!” Arturo shouted to the major domo as he pulled the heavy bar off the gate. As the entrance opened, Quinn practically fell into the safety of the compound. Arturo caught him in a hug of relief. “Thank God you’re all right!” He looked back through the gate with consternation as the major domo closed it and replace the bolt. “Where’s Miss Welles?”

Quinn’s face fell open with shock as Rembrandt joined them by the gate. “You mean she isn’t here yet!?”

Arturo roared, “ _You left her!?_ ”

Quinn looked back out towards the street. “I’ve been following her the whole way! I thought she’d be here by now!”

“Traveling alone?” Rembrandt said sharply. “Through these streets?”

Quinn turned back to face them. “She’s not alone. She’s with Ani.”

“Who’s Ani?” Rembrandt asked.

“My double.”

Arturo’s eyebrows arched. “The one who works in the house of ill repute?”

Quinn rubbed his forehead tiredly. He’d been feeling pretty sorry for himself after the last harrowing thirty-six hours, and he’d certainly been hoping for a more sympathetic reception than this. “Look, I don’t completely understand the dynamics here, but she was in the House of Abneer all day yesterday, and about ten minutes before I got there this afternoon, she and Ani left. And I know they were coming this way, because I had a couple of close calls with soldiers who were looking for them. So, they’re obviously in trouble, too.”

“Too?” Rembrandt commented.

“Diehdan put out a posse after me when I ditched her.” He looked back out at the dark street. “And I think we’re going to be in for some trouble. I’m pretty sure I was followed here. I don’t know if they’re after me, or if they’re after Ani and Wade, or if they’re just some creeps out cruising the streets, but at this point I don’t think it makes that much of a difference.”

Arturo gave Rembrandt a long look of annoyed dismay. “Well, this is just fine. _Now_ will you have Lot send out servants to look for them?”

Rembrandt had to concede the point. “If we can get a word in edgewise.”

Rembrandt led the way up to the house as Quinn and Arturo followed. Quinn shook his head, “I had a hell of a time finding this place. Nobody would give me a straight answer. I sure hope Ani knows his way around this town so they get here in a hurry.” As they approached the door, the sound of the daughters shouting at their father spilled out to greet them. Quinn frowned. “What’s that?”

Arturo glowered, “Prepare yourself, my boy, it is not a pretty scene.”

The three passed the threshold of the house as Lot finally snapped and turned on his offspring. “With the Lord who sits above us all as my witness, I swear if either of you says another word, I’ll sell the two of you to the first man that passes by that gate!”

After a stunned moment of horror, the girls turned away with shrill wails and fled the front hall for their rooms. Lot’s wife emerged from around the corner, her arms crossed in pointed defiance as she took slow, deliberate strides towards her lord and master. “Husband,” she said sternly, “I certainly hope you are proud of yourself for destroying the lives of your only children by this foolish whim brought on by total strangers. It was bad enough when we were taken away as prisoners because of you and your uncle. Now you want us to leave for no reason whatsoever!”

Quinn eyed her seriously, then whispered to Arturo, “Is she the one who turns into a pillar of salt?”

Arturo said wearily, “We can only hope.”

Lot had had his fill of resistance and crossed his arms to match his wife’s pose. “Are you packed yet?”

“What makes you think I’m going with you on this fool’s journey?”

“Because you know that it would vex me more if you went than if you stayed.”

They eyed each other for a long moment over their showdown poses, but in spite of everything, there was a spark of love in their eyes that connected between them and raised reluctant smiles. She nodded towards Quinn without actually looking at him. “Is he the one we’ve been waiting for? Are we leaving now?”

Rembrandt didn’t want to be a part of this, but he had to say, “No, there’s one more. We were hoping you could send servants out to look for her.”

The husband and wife turned in unison to look at him. “‘Her’?” Lot said. “A woman out there by herself?”

Quinn jumped in pointedly, “She’s traveling with someone.”

Lot turned to his major domo. “Arm the men and send them out.” The major domo frowned, but he nodded and stepped away to fulfill the order. Lot asked Quinn, “What does she look like?”

“Well, it’s easy,” he answered. “She’s dressed just like us, and the guy she’s traveling with is a slave from Gomorrah who looks exactly like me. Except he’s got a beard.” Quinn scratched his three days’ worth of stubble and shook his head. What a disaster this had turned into.

The sound of movement out on the street caught all their ears, and they turned hopefully towards the gate. But hope withered into dismay as they saw ten men of the town gather just beyond the gate’s sturdy metal bars. One pointed at Quinn. “He’s the one!” Quinn shuddered as Rembrandt and Arturo instinctively stood between him and the mob in the street. Several of the men outside the gate were carrying torches and one shook his blazing torch threateningly.

Lot turned to his wife. “Go back into the house.” His daughters appeared to see what the commotion was, and he pointed back into the safety of the building. “Go.” None of them listened to him.

The man on the street shouted in to them as he pointed at Quinn, “There’s a price on your head. And I intend to claim it!” Shouts of assent echoed from the crowd.

Lot stepped forward, still a safe distance from the gate. “Please, these men are guests in my house. Enough of this wickedness. Go about your business and do not bother us further.”

The angry man eyed the Sliders as they stood in the doorway, then licked his lips as he regarded Rembrandt. “He’s interesting. We’ll take him, too.”

Rembrandt recoiled as Arturo put his hands on his hips and said defiantly to the ruffian, “Go away before you get hurt.”

The group of men, which had attracted a few passersby and was now nearly up to twenty in strength, didn’t like the sound of that. Over a chorus of mutters, the man who had trailed Quinn said to Arturo sharply, “We know how to deal with people like you.” Several chuckles came from the group. The man looked at Lot. “Just give us the fugitive with the bounty on his head, and give us the other two for sport, and we will leave you and your family in peace. Fair enough?” A murmur of assent from the crowd underlined his statement.

Lot shook his head. “No, they’re my guests. They’re under my protection.” He looked back at the trio, and spotted his obstinate daughters watching from the edge of the house’s threshold. He frowned at them, then looked back at the mob at the gate. “But if you insist on taking something with you,” he said pointedly, “I’ll let you have my daughters.” Shrieks of female outrage came from the house’s doorway. The three visitors reacted with surprise. Lot said to the crowd, “They’re loud, and disobedient, but they’re virgins. Take them. Do whatever you want. You don’t even have to bring them back.” The women of the family stormed off in disgust into the house’s inner sanctum.

A surly man from the rabble shouted, “Touch a merchant’s daughter? I don’t want to lose my head tomorrow.” Other men voiced their anger over this bad joke of an “offer.”

The leader of the mob growled at Lot, “You’re holding a fugitive wanted in Gomorrah by the daughter of Ahmeck for theft and assault. I don’t care how rich you are, or who your uncle is. You’re subject to the law like everyone else. Hand him over!” The crowd shouted in agreement, and one man pushed against the stout gate, rattling it on its sturdy hinges.

Fighting a shudder up his spine, Quinn turned to his friends. His look of determination gave him away, and Rembrandt said firmly, “Don’t even _think_ it, Q-Ball.”

Quinn ignored him and looked at Arturo. “You have the timer?”

Arturo’s resolve was as strong as Rembrandt’s. “We are not handing you over. We’ll slide from here if we have to.”

Quinn fired back as he pointed at the house, “And take all of them with us?”

Arturo refused to concede the validity of his point. “If we have to.”

“Is there a back gate to this place?” Quinn asked.

Arturo frowned. “No.”

“Okay,” Quinn said, trying to force this to make sense. “With that crowd out there, Wade’s never going to be able to get in here. So, I go with them, and when Wade and Ani get here, you guys come with Lot’s slaves and rescue me.”

Arturo said firmly, “If you go through that gate, we will never see you again.”

Rembrandt said, “He’s right, Quinn. We’ll find another way.”

Lot approached them. “You’re my guests. You’re under my protection. I’m responsible for your safety.” He looked at Rembrandt. “I would appreciate some divine intervention, if you can arrange it. But if not, my servants are more than capable of defending this place.”

Rembrandt looked over Lot’s shoulder and saw the household’s major domo arguing with some of the male house slaves. Understandably, the servants seemed reluctant to arm themselves and go out into the mob. “Well, Lot, I’m not sure I can arrange divine intervention, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Lot nodded and turned to face the men at the gate. “What is the bounty on this man?” he said, indicating Quinn.

The man answered, “A mina of silver.”

Lot nodded. “All right. Come back in the morning, and we’ll all go to the magistrate’s office together. I pledge to you two minas of silver if he isn’t here.”

The others mulled over the deal, but the man wouldn’t be bought so easily. “This isn’t some sort of joke, is it, like the offer of your daughters?”

“This is no joke. You’ll either have one mina from the daughter of Ahmeck tomorrow, or you’ll have two minas from me.”

The man pondered this, then eyed Lot sharply. “Swear it by the manhood of Baal, and I’ll think it over.”

Lot hesitated, then cast a side glance towards Rembrandt. “Well, I promise you. You’ll have your money.”

The man’s anger flared. “Swear it by the manhood of Baal!”

Lot stammered, then looked at Rembrandt again. Rembrandt frowned, then shrugged slightly. “Go ahead.”

“By...the manhood of Baal,” Lot said with a choke in his voice, “I swear.”

The man regarded Lot with growing suspicion. “I think you’re lying!” He looked at the others. “Come to think of it, he must be rich, to offer two minas so easily. I wonder how much money we’ll find inside the house?” A roar of delight erupted from the group of men. Suddenly the mob pressed against the gate.

Lot backed away unsteadily. He turned towards his major domo. “Ona! Get the men!”

The major domo approached Lot helplessly. “Master,” he said in a desperate whisper, “the men are refusing to go out there!” Indeed, all the male slaves had disappeared from sight.

Lot looked back at the gate, which was groaning from the crush of the mob. In a panic he threw his hands over his face. “O Lord On High, forgive me for swearing! Forgive me for swearing! I’ve brought this on us! Forgive me! Protect my family!”

The Sliders could see the gate would give in another minute or two. They would leave the praying to Lot. Arturo said as he headed into the house, “Let’s find those weapons!” Quinn followed.

Rembrandt hesitated. They’d never win against that mob. Then the light bulb went off in his head. Ha, he thought—yeah, light bulb! He searched through his jacket pockets and found the disposable camera. He flipped the button for the built-in flash and held the camera out towards the gate and clicked the shutter button.

A bright flash of light penetrated the courtyard. The men outside the gate cried out with fear and pain. They covered their blinded eyes and fell back, only to discover that the evil spirit of the light had entered their eyes. In panic, many raged and swatted their fists and torches at the spirit that mocked them by dancing before their vision and dodging their blows. Instead, their swings and punches at the elusive entity landed on their fellows, and fistfights broke out in the mob.

Arturo, Quinn, and Lot dashed out into the courtyard in response to the astonishing light that had filled the front of the house. Rembrandt stood with his camera at the ready, and his fellow Sliders marveled at his humble weapon. “Don’t get comfortable,” he warned them. “I’ve only got two shots left.”

Out in the quiet shadows of the side street near Lot’s house, Ani glanced up at the drizzling clouds and muttered “No, not lightning!” When no thunder followed, he shared a frown with Wade, then they heard the sound of swearing and fighting up ahead. He stood against the wall of the building and peered around the corner.

Wade joined him and peeked at the strange sight of the combative crowd fighting itself. She frowned. “Are you sure that’s Lot’s house?”

“Yes.” Ani stared at the sight in bewilderment. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Where are the servants?”

“This can’t be the right place. We need to make sure—” She stiffened when she saw Rembrandt, Quinn and Arturo standing on the other side of the front gate. “There they are!”

Ani had his attention on the strange sight of men staggering and falling as they tore at their eyes, while others pummeled each other and some swung useless punches at the air. “I don’t know this magic, but I don’t think I can get you through this by myself. I’m going to get the servants.” He handed her Abneer’s dagger. “Stay here. Do _not_ come out until I come back for you.” He slipped around the corner. She grabbed for his cloak to stop him, but he was out of reach and heading across the broad street towards the crowd. She was too terrified to breathe as she watched him skirt along the side of the building and then move with a low, stealthy stride around the mob towards the stout front gate.

The Sliders inside the compound watched the mysterious figure moving through the darkness towards them, and for a moment Rembrandt wondered if this was the divine intervention. Then the figure came close enough to catch the light of the torches. It was Quinn under that dark cloak. Arturo instinctively grabbed Quinn’s shoulder, just to make sure he was still inside the compound. The presence of Quinn’s double could only mean that Wade was nearby! The three moved to the gate to slide the bar as soon as the cloaked figure came close enough.

Ani was within thirty feet of the gate when one of the men in the back of the crowd shouted, “There he is!” The blinded men turned at the call, but many could not see him with the bedeviling light lingering in their eyes.

Ani sized up the scene in a glance. Instead of running away, with a grim resolve he ran through the crowd directly towards the gate.

The instigator who had demanded they hand over the fugitive turned around with unseeing eyes. He blinked to clear his vision, but a glimpse of movement was all he needed. “You’re worth half a mina dead!”

A terrible flash of metal caught the torchlight as the mob leader launched his arm towards the hurrying figure. The blow caught Ani square in the stomach. He shouted in pain and surprise as he doubled over.

The cloaked figure crumpled to the ground five feet from the gate. The fumbling mob followed the sound and surrounded him. Quinn and Arturo pulled on the gate as Rembrandt held the camera between the gate’s bars and shouted to the surly horde, “Hey! Over here!” By instinct, they turned and looked. He pressed the shutter button, sending a blinding flash straight at them from close range.

The rioters shouted and screamed as they fell and scrambled to safety out of sight. Quinn and Arturo swung the gate open. Wade dashed across the broad street, Abneer’s dagger clenched in her hand, as Quinn and Rembrandt reached the fallen figure. The men scooped him up as Wade joined them, and they hurried the wounded man into the compound as Arturo and Lot swung the stout gate closed and slammed the bar back into place with an echoing clang.

They laid Ani down gingerly in the light of the house’s front torches. Arturo gently pulled back the cloak as Wade tilted Ani’s face towards her. The shock of the attack was frozen on his face, and he’d turned a ghastly gray. His withdrawn cloak revealed that his chest and stomach were covered with blood. “Ani! No!”

Rembrandt knelt behind her and patted her shoulders with relief. “Are you all right?”

She barely noticed them as she watched the light rain begin to form a stream with Ani’s blood and drain it off into the grass. “I’m fine,” she said distantly, “I’m fine. Oh, God. Get him in the house. Get him inside.”

Quinn and Rembrandt gingerly picked him up and carried him to the front door. As Wade followed, Arturo put a concerned arm around her shoulder as he walked her inside. “Miss Welles, are you really all right? You have no idea how worried we were about you.”

Never taking her eyes off Ani, she said, “I’m fine. I was worried about you guys, too.”

As they carried Ani through the house’s threshold, Rembrandt looked at Lot’s wife, who was staring in horror at the bloody burden. He said to her, “Do you have a table? We need to put him down someplace and take a look at him.”

She stared in wonder at Ani, then Quinn. Lot appeared behind them and gestured towards the right. “In there.” He looked at his daughters, who were cowering behind the door frame leading into the carpeted reception room. “Fetch water and bandages. Now.”

The elder daughter regarded Ani with revulsion, then noticed the tattoo around the wrist of his right hand, which had slipped out from under the heavy cloak. “But he’s a slave!”

Lot fumed, “Then get Molari in here!” The daughters left together.

Lot opened the door into a dining area before Quinn and Rembrandt, and the two set Ani on the long table. Wade was instantly at his side, gripping his cold hand tightly and trying to rub some life into it. “Ani, can you hear me?” His eyes were open and moving slightly, but they were glazing over and she wasn’t sure he could see her. She tried to hold back her tears as she recognized the all-too-clear signs that he was going into shock.

A middle-aged servant bustled into the room with water and bandages and took charge. He said to Rembrandt, “Cut open his clothes so I can see.” Rembrandt peeled off the bloody wool cloak as Wade looked at Abneer’s jeweled dagger. She couldn’t bring herself to slice open Ani’s caftan, so she handed the dagger to Quinn. He blinked at the magnificent weapon, then carefully slit open the caftan from the neckline down past his waist. Wade looked away from the ragged puncture wound, which was just above the navel. His abdomen was slightly swollen, and as Molari pressed the ghastly pale flesh, everyone could see it was hard to the touch. He was bleeding internally, and even the best medicine this world had to offer could do nothing to save him. He was dying.

Arturo stood behind Wade and laid his hands on her shoulders, gently pulling her back. He said with infinite tenderness, “You should leave now.”

She didn’t take her eyes off Ani. “No.”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“I can stay with him.” She fought the emotion in her voice as she said, “I got him into this. I’m not going to leave him now.”

“There’s no reason to torture yourself,” he continued.

Wade ignored Arturo as Ani groaned slightly. She sat on the bench beside the table and squeezed his hand. He blinked and looked around. “Ani? Can you hear me?”

He looked at her and tried to speak, but nothing audible came out. She leaned in closer. “I’m so sorry.”

A hint of a smile passed over his lips, and she saw him mouth the words, “Never apologize.”

She smiled in spite of the drop of a tear and said, “I’ll do whatever I darn well please.”

Ani closed his eyes as he fought a twinge of pain. Wade looked at Molari as he tended to the wound. “You’ve got to save him. You’ve got to.”

Arturo stepped away from the table and joined Rembrandt and Quinn by the door. “He won’t last the night,” he said mutedly.

Quinn shook his head. “There’s no way we can take him with us, is there?”

Despite his hushed voice, Wade heard his words and turned her head sharply. “We’re not leaving him here!” The three didn’t react, and she fumed, “He saved my life. Do you understand that? I am not leaving without him.” She turned back to the patient.

The three men exchanged a dismayed look of resignation. “Well,” Arturo said, “we can put him on one of the wagons.”

Quinn frowned. “Wagons?”

“Oh, yes. This is turning into quite a caravan. Lot wants to take everything with him.”

Lot joined the three men and looked at his slave attending to Ani. “How is he?”

“Not good,” Arturo replied. “I’m afraid we’ll need to put him in one of your wagons. We need to leave _now_.”

Lot’s wife appeared from around the corner and began to rail at her husband. “This is a disaster! Curse you and your dreams! Our life has been turned upside down ever since you welcomed these strangers into our house! Dissension in the family—riots in the streets—and now a revolt with our slaves! Husband, I demand that you throw all of these people out through the gate immediately!”

Lot no longer had the strength to argue with his wife. He gazed at her wearily. “You know that if you force me to choose between my God and you, I’ll choose my God. So do _not_ make me choose.”

“I’m not asking you to choose between your god and me. I’m telling you to choose between these strangers and your family, your flesh and blood.” She gestured towards the others, Rembrandt in particular. “You cannot tell me these people are any more than ruffians who have wandered in to our house, eaten our food, and nearly ruined our lives.”

Lot sighed wearily. “I brought this on all of us. I turned my back on the Lord. I should never have stayed in this place. This is my punishment.”

Lot’s wife rolled her eyes and glared at Rembrandt. “I hope you’re proud of this.” She shook her head and disappeared around the corner.

Rembrandt asked Lot quietly, “Slave revolt?”

Lot snapped out of his wallowing and nodded. “They’re refusing to go with us. They think I’ve gone mad, and they’re going to stay here until I come back to my senses.”

Quinn’s attention was caught by a sound out by the front gate. He stepped back into the entry area and looked outside. Several of the men from the mob had returned and were milling around just at the edge of the light outside the gate.

“Well,” Arturo said, “even if it’s just us, as long as the coast is clear now we can go anytime.”

“Ah,” Quinn said, “no good, guys.” He nodded towards the gate. The others joined him and saw the men watching them.

Rembrandt shook his head sadly. “Man, what I’d give to have a .38 right now.”

A few more men drifted in, and now they were standing right at the gate, unafraid of being seen. Lot regarded them, then went into the back of the house on an errand.

Arturo looked at the men waiting for them, then at the others. Their only hope at this point would be to move now and move fast. He looked at Wade, who was still tending to Ani as Lot’s slave finished tying up the bandage and left. It was time to make a very difficult decision.

He walked up to her, and Quinn and Rembrandt followed. Arturo looked at Ani, who was still conscious but obviously in great pain. Wade was tucking a blanket from the house around him and holding his hand, doing everything she could to will him back to life. Arturo frowned. Her deep attachment to him would make this very difficult indeed. “How’s he doing?” he asked her quietly.

Ani opened his eyes and looked at the three men, and Wade’s reluctant glance to Arturo made it clear she couldn’t say everything in front of Ani. “He’s doing fine. Molari stopped the bleeding and patched him up. He just needs to rest.”

Arturo nodded, giving her a meaningful look to tell her that he understood what she was really saying. His voice was calm and soothing, even if his words were not: “We have to go soon. Some of the men are back at the gate. When we go, we’ll need to travel fast and light, and be ready for trouble.” He looked at her significantly, letting his silence make his point.

She frowned, then her lip trembled. She knew he was right, but she couldn’t do this. She just couldn’t. She blinked away tears and tried to put on a casual face as she looked back at Ani.

But he wasn’t looking at her. He’d fixed a rapt gaze on Quinn, marveling at him. Quinn was all too aware of Ani’s intense gaze and was not at all comfortable with it. He could only glance at him for a moment at a time, then he had to look away. He had pieced together that something had happened between him and Wade, and that made him even more uncomfortable.

Wade saw Quinn fidget, then smiled sadly at Ani. She mouthed, “The prince of fools.” Ani smiled slightly. He looked at Quinn again and tried to gather the energy to say something, but he didn’t have the strength and he had to give up and close his eyes. Wade picked up one of Molari’s spare cloths and tenderly wiped the sweat off Ani’s forehead.

Rembrandt looked at Arturo, who returned his gaze. Well, this was certainly getting more interesting by the minute! They looked at Quinn, who frowned at them with annoyance. He moved back to the dining room’s doorway and glanced out towards the gate, then leaned against the door, staying a safe distance from the others.

Arturo put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Wade,” he said simply.

She closed her eyes tight and tried to force her brimming tears back down. She gave Arturo a stiff nod, then looked at Ani. How could she leave him? How could she abandon him when he’d never abandoned her, even at the risk of his life?

He could still read her face so well and knew what was coming. He turned his head towards her slightly and began to move his lips to get her to move closer. She put her ear next to his lips, and she could just barely distinguish the faint words: “Through gate. Go to water. Find piers. Boatman named Tolonna. Tell him you’re my friends. Tell him...take you to Talan.”

She closed her eyes and lowered her head. She sighed as she sat up, then looked at him angrily. “You’re so damned noble. I hate it.”

He mouthed the words, “As long as you’re safe, I’ll be fine.”

The calm clarity radiating from his eyes finally cracked her composure. She plunked her elbows on the table next to his arm and buried her face in her fists and cried. Arturo and Rembrandt moved back, giving her some privacy in her grief.

Quinn frowned. It was one thing to see some other Wade crying over some other Quinn, but it was quite another to see his Wade—their Wade—crying like this over his double. He didn’t know whether to be angry or jealous or what. Of course, he had no right to be jealous, but the last time he’d seen her, she’d been so pissed at him...and now this sight was too much to handle.

He stepped out of the room and looked at the front gate again. Things were looking worse. At least ten men were out there again, and they were pressed against the gate and staring hungrily at the house. It was obvious that if they were going to get out of this compound, they would have to fight their way out...and he had no idea how they were going to do that with the women along.

Rembrandt joined him and looked at the gathered men. When they saw him, they turned away their faces and covered their eyes. Rembrandt let out a sad breath. “This is bad, Q-Ball. They’re on to me. It’s not going to work a third time.”

“Yeah, Remmy. Real bad.” Rembrandt went into the house to share the bad news with Arturo.

Lot appeared next to Quinn, holding two long poles connected by a wide stout cloth. “Are we ready?”

Quinn frowned at the poles. “What’s that?”

He nodded towards Ani. “For him.”

Quinn realized he was holding a stretcher. “We can’t take him with us.”

Lot recoiled with surprise. “You don’t want to save your own brother?”

He shuddered at their host’s words, then indicated the mob at the gate. “You think we can get him _and_ your family through that?”

Lot stared at the rabble outside his home, then sagged limply and let the stretcher drop to the floor. “This is God’s judgment. There’s nothing to be done. All is lost.”

Quinn glared at him. What a wimp! This guy and his family deserved each other. “The Lord helps those who help themselves. Get everyone out here, and get all the weapons you’ve got.” Lot nodded listlessly, then went into the back of the house.

Wade stood up slowly and went to Arturo and Rembrandt. Rembrandt asked, “Is he...?”

She shook her head. “No, he’s still alive, but....” She glanced at his still form.

Arturo held her shoulders and leaned in for a sympathetic kiss on her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded, then sighed again. Rembrandt gave her a long, comforting hug. “I’m sorry, Wade. At least you gave him a chance to go out a hero, instead of a piece of toast tomorrow.”

She looked at him. “You know, there are times when I almost believe that’s going to happen, and then there’re times when I think you’re nuts.”

He smiled slightly. “Hey, I can be nuts _and_ right, can’t I?” She had to smile at that, and she hugged him, grateful for his strength.

Lot came back as Quinn rejoined the group. He held about eight swords of varying lengths. He handed a few to Quinn, then two to Arturo. “Do you know how to fight with these?”

Quinn answered, “We can defend ourselves.”

Arturo inspected the long, sparkling edges of the two blades as Rembrandt took two weapons from Lot. He said to Quinn, “Remember, slash, not thrust. And go for legs and arms. A disable’s as good as a kill in a street fight, and a lot easier to get.” Quinn nodded, steeling himself for the conflict to come.

Lot’s wife and daughters emerged from the back of the house, none too happy about the turn of events. “Now you want us to abandon everything?” his wife said. “We can take nothing with us?”

Lot looked at his weapons as he said, “This is the Lord’s will.” He gestured towards the restless mob at the gate. “You can leave and have your life, or you can stay here with your belongings and have nothing at all.”

The women looked outside and, finally, began to understand the gravity of the situation. The younger daughter blanched. The older one demanded, “Father, make the slaves do something!”

Their mother said tartly, “He has made them do something. He’s made them turn against us!”

The mob could see the group’s preparations, and a rumble of anticipation spread through the crowd as they waited for them to come through the only way out.

The women of the family huddled together inside the ring of men as they realized the danger of the gauntlet through which they would be passing. The men gathered closer together, forming a ring of defense. But it was obvious this unit wouldn’t hold together long. The daughters were skittish and the younger looked as if she was going to bolt back into the house.

Wade joined the group and frowned at the other women. A moment of panic outside the gate could get a few of them killed. This was not good at all. She began to simmer, then took one of Rembrandt’s swords and hefted it in her hands, testing its weight. “I hate this,” she muttered, then growled, “I mean, I really hate this.” She looked back at Ani, for the first time glad he wouldn’t wake up again. The sickening thought occurred to her that she’d probably be doing him a favor if she cut his throat now and put an end to it before the mob got to him. Her simmer suddenly flared to a boil as she saw the mob stirring to greet their exit. “I really hate this!” she shouted as she took a step back from the phalanx. “God, _do something!!_ ”

A low rumble answered, more felt than heard, and the others looked at Wade in surprise. She took another step back and she wobbled as a ripple passed through the house. There was a moment of eerie stillness, and then the house began to shake violently from side to side. Everyone tumbled to the floor as the furniture spilled over, the wall torches fell from their holders, and the air was filled with the terrible sound of masonry cracking and wooden walls being wrenched apart. Wails of terror ripped through the house as the wall next to the reception room split in two, then part of the ceiling collapsed, spewing dust and debris everywhere. The house slammed back and forth for twenty seconds that stretched into eternity, and then, with a last nauseating slump, it rumbled to a stop.

They all looked at each other in the eerie half-light, then Lot and Quinn got up and picked the burning torches off the floor. Rembrandt was staring at Wade, who was staring back at him. “Girl, remind me never to get you mad at me.” Wade stood up slowly and dusted herself off, aware that the women of the family were staring at her in amazement, but by this point she didn’t really care.

Quinn said to Rembrandt as he helped Arturo to his feet, “I thought you said tomorrow at dawn.”

“Well,” he answered, “we’re still here, aren’t we? I’d say this was just the opening number.”

A quick assessment showed that the only injury was a slight cut to Arturo’s thumb. As he sucked the drop of blood off the wound, Arturo muttered, “Somehow I thought falling on my sword would be a bit more dignified.”

Wade went to check on Ani, who had somehow miraculously not fallen off the table and, except for a light layer of dust from the cracked ceiling, was none the worse for the ordeal. Quinn picked up one of his swords and looked at the front gate. Many of the men had scattered, but there were a few left in waiting. “Well, the odds are a little better, but we’re still not home free. Come on, let’s go while they’re still disorganized.”

But Lot’s daughters didn’t hear him. They were staring out the back of the house, which had collapsed. The light of the torches just barely reached the far end of the garden and the wall of the city...which had split open in a four-foot rift from the parapet to the ground. They stared open-mouthed at the sight, then stared at Wade as she came back to the group. Wade blinked at the sight, then looked at the others. She pointed to the house’s front doors. “Close the doors! Close the doors!” With a great effort, Quinn and Rembrandt managed to push aside the debris on the floor and force shut the skewed doors.

“This is a sign, guys,” Wade said as she picked up the stretcher. “We’re going out the back, and we’re taking him with us,” she said, pointing to Ani. She handed the stretcher to the older daughter, who didn’t like this new idea. “Come on,” Wade ordered, “go.” She gestured for the two sisters to take the stretcher into the room, but they hesitated. Hands on hips, Wade glared at them. “Look, do you want me to make another earthquake?” The sisters skittered out of the hall into the dining room. Her friends regarded her with surprise.

Rembrandt said quietly, “Hey, don’t let it go to your head.”

She dusted off her hands as she reached to pick up one of the fallen swords. “I say if you got it, flaunt it.”

Rembrandt shook his head, then signaled for Quinn to follow him into the dining room to help the sisters.


	10. Chapter 10

A torch in one hand and a sword in the other, Wade led the parade of refugees through the darkness down the slope towards the shore. Quinn and Rembrandt carried the stretcher while Lot acted as guide, familiar with the destination Wade had told him from Ani’s instructions. The light rain had stopped, which helped speed their way, but a heavy overcast lingered and kept the night gloomy. They saw no one as they traveled, which was just as well. The Sliders imagined the earthquake had confused things enough that people were attending to their own business and not prowling the night in their usual way. In the distance, they saw several scattered buildings on fire, but other than that, the night was quiet.

Within half an hour, they could see the lanterns of the small piers. As the others waited with the stretcher at a safe distance, Wade, Rembrandt, and Lot walked down the row of boats. Damage from the earthquake was minimal here, although a few of the vessels were submerged. They could see sailors dealing with cargo on several boats up ahead, and when they approached the first, Wade asked, “Tolonna?”

The man nodded further down the way. “Last boat.”

Thirty yards down, they found a sturdy, middle-aged man unloading baskets of produce from a broad-beamed twenty-foot sailboat. He looked up as they approached. “Are you Tolonna?” Wade asked.

He nodded, looking at them as if trying to figure out how they knew him. “Yes, I’m Tolonna.”

Wade heaved a sigh of relief and turned back towards the others waiting in the dark, lifting the torch up and down as a signal. She turned to the boatman. “Ani sent us.”

Tolonna’s face lit up with joy. “Ani! You know him! How is he?”

Wade didn’t know how to answer. “He asked you to help us. He needs your help.”

He put down the basket of vegetables he’d been holding. “Whatever I can do for you, I will.”

“He told me to ask you to take us across the Bay—uh, the Living Sea—to Talan.”

“I’ll be happy to do this. I’ll deliver the produce, and then we can go just before dawn.”

Wade shook her head as she heard the group come up behind her. “No, we have to go right now.”

Tolonna looked puzzled, then reacted with surprise as three wealthy women appeared from the darkness. Then he stared at Quinn, who was the lead stretcher bearer. He frowned. “...Ani?”

Quinn shook his head, then pointed with his chin behind him. Tolonna stepped up next to the stretcher, then let out a gasp of dismay when he saw the still form of his dearest friend’s only child. He regarded the boy with grief for a few moments, then gestured towards the boat with determination. “Get him on the boat. Take all the baskets off so there’s room for everyone.” Within five minutes, the baskets were scattered on the pier, everyone was aboard, Tolonna had hoisted the sail, and they were off into the night.

Lot and his family sat just behind the mast, the daughters assigned the uncomfortable task of keeping an eye on Ani. Quinn, Arturo and Rembrandt sat in front of the mast, and, as the boat headed out into the dark waters, Wade sat back at the tiller with Tolonna and answered his many questions about Ani and what had happened. He obviously cared for him as if he were his own child, and this turn of events distressed him greatly. Wade was glad Ani had such a friend still, even if all it meant was he would die among people who cared about him.

When Tolonna’s questions were all answered, Wade moved forward and stopped by the stretcher. “How is he?” she asked the daughters.

The elder daughter wrinkled her nose and frowned, obviously having no idea how he was. “He’s fine.”

Wade decided not to comment as she looked at Ani. In the flickering light of the dying torch, he looked already dead, but a check of his wrist revealed a faint pulse. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, then tucked it back under the blanket and continued moving forward.

She sat with her friends, not sure what to say. No one else knew, either, and they sat in silence. She looked at Quinn’s watch, but in the darkness, she couldn’t read the dial. “What time is it?”

He pushed the button that lit the watch’s face. “Just past midnight.”

She nodded absently. “How much time do we have left?”

Arturo pulled the timer out of his pocket. “Six hours and forty-two minutes.”

She looked up at the sail. There wasn’t much of a breeze, and the boat was sturdy but not fast. “Tolonna,” she called back quietly, “how long will it take us to get to the far shore?”

He shrugged. “With this wind, two, two and a half lamps.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. Arturo said, “How long is a lamp, I wonder?”

She said as she looked at the sail, “2.4 hours.”

The men shared a glance. She certainly seemed to have made herself comfortable on this Earth.

She looked at the ship’s bow, then noticed the well-worn bench just back from the prow. This was undoubtedly where the young Ani had watched for whales. How he’d loved this boat, and now it was taking him home to die. She sighed, then got up slowly and went to the bench. She sat facing away from the others and tried not to think about everything that had led up to this moment.

The three men looked at each other. Now that they finally had the time to talk, did any of them know what to say? Arturo decided to give it a go. He moved unsteadily to the prow and sat next to Wade. “How are you?”

His intensely sympathetic gaze caught her eye, and she gave him a faint, reassuring smile. “I’m fine. Really. I’m sorry, I let myself get shanghaied, and you must have been out of your minds with worry. Except for a few dicey moments, I was fine the whole time. I’m sorry. I should have gotten word to you, but I didn’t know how, and then when I figured out what to do it was too late and—”

Arturo took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s all right. It was a harrowing time for all of us, and I’m sure you did the best you could.” An unintentional pause slipped in. “And you were with Ani, and I’m sure that complicated things.”

She looked at him. He was trying so hard to appear casual that it almost hurt her eyes to look at him. She smiled and shook her head. “I know what you’re thinking. I didn’t fixate on him because of Quinn. He rescued me, and he gave me a safe place to stay. He saved my life. _Three times_. ...And I’ve repaid him by getting him killed.”

Arturo didn’t know what to say, then remarked quietly, “Life is so damned unfair sometimes, isn’t it?”

She shook her head. “Don’t you know it.”

He regarded her, appreciating once again her inner strength. “Are you going to be all right?”

She nodded. “It’ll take some time, but yes, I’m going to be fine.”

He smiled. “Yes, you are.” He kissed her on the forehead, then went back to his spot with the others. He regarded Quinn, whose two days without sleep had caught up with him and he was fast asleep resting against the mast. He looked at Rembrandt with a “next” expression. Rembrandt took a deep breath, then got up and made his way shakily to the prow. He sat down hard next to Wade. “Man, I don’t care how long I was in the Navy. I’m just not a sailor.”

She eyed him knowingly. “Taking turns, are you?”

Well, so much for pretending this was just a social call. “Wade,” he said in a confidential tone with a slight shake of his head, “all I can say is, I can’t believe you had sex with him.”

She blinked, then gave a side glance back towards the others. “Is it that obvious?”

“A ten-foot neon sign would be more subtle.” He looked at her, then had to smile. “Girl, I do not know what I’m going to do with you.”

She bit her lip in a futile effort to hide her smile. “Remmy, let me tell you. It was in- _cred_ -ible. I finally understand what all the fuss is about.” He had to fight to keep a chuckle inside. “And if you ever, _ever_ tell the others, I will personally make sure you stay behind on the worst Earth we ever come across.” They exchanged a significant gaze, then both had to suppress smiles.

“Child, what were you thinking? You could not have picked a better way to make things worse with Quinn. We’re going to be living in a war zone.”

“Actually, no. I think it’s going to be okay now. It’s really put a lot of things in perspective.” She added with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, “And I think I got a few things out of my system.” He tried to contain his laugh, but it slipped out. She frowned a “shh!” at him, then shook her head. After a few moments she grew thoughtful. “But part of it’s bad. He really fell for me. I mean, hard. This wouldn’t have been so bad if it had been, you know, his business as usual. I mean, all the weird, psychological stuff with Quinn aside, I really didn’t encourage it. At least, I don’t think I did. But he just went like a ton of bricks.”

“Well,” he said gently, “you were probably the first person in a long time to treat him like a real human being. You made him feel special. Guys can’t resist that.”

She looked at the bow breaking the dark waters before them. “And now he’s going to die, because of me.”

“Wade, he was going to die tomorrow anyway.”

She watched the waters part, marking their progress. “I wish I could be so certain of that.”

He took her hands in his and gave them a gentle squeeze. “You’ll know tomorrow at dawn.” She nodded a thanks, and he wobbled back to Arturo and Quinn. He looked at Quinn, then shook him awake.

Quinn came to with a sodden, “What? Huh?”

“Go up there and sit with her.”

Quinn blinked, trying to wake up and figure out what was going on. “Why?”

“She’s had a rough time, Q-Ball. I think she’d appreciate the company.”

Quinn sat up slowly, looking at Arturo for some sort of explanation or reprieve, but he got none. He shook his head to wake up, then, with a last, uncertain look at Rembrandt, went to the prow.

Wade regarded him as he yawned and sat heavily beside her. She said, “How are you doing? You look like you’ve been through the wringer. From what I gather, you had a rough two days.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to repeat that anytime soon.” He looked at her, but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. “I’m sorry about Ani.”

“Thanks.”

He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he sat there uncomfortably for a few minutes.

Then Wade looked at him seriously and said four of the most terrifying words known to a man: “We have to talk.”

Quinn straightened his shoulders, preparing for the worst. “Look, Wade—”

“I owe you a whole bunch of apologies.”

He blinked. This wasn’t what he was expecting.

“I’ve been kind of miserable to be around for the last week and a half. I’m sorry. I’ve been picking fights with you...ever since Meteor World.”

He didn’t really want to talk about this, but it was probably time to get it over with. “Wade, about what happened....”

“I understand. Really. I mean, _really_.” She smiled distantly. “I like you. I liked kissing you.” Her smile broadened. “You’re a good kisser.” He smiled awkwardly at that. “I just gave what happened more significance than you did. And I’ve been torturing you ever since. I’m sorry. This slide has really made me see what’s important, and what isn’t.” She looked at him fondly, then held out her hand to shake. “Friends?”

He tried to hide his astonishment. This really wasn’t at all what he was expecting. Wow. Talk about easy. He shook her hand. “Friends.” They shared a smile, then he gave her a hug. She settled into the embrace comfortably. A little too comfortably, he thought. She was just a little too familiar with this body. He released the hug, and she let go of him easily. He examined her face. It was too dark to see a lot of details, but there was a calm confidence in her eyes that he’d never noticed before. Oh, yeah, this was not right. Something had definitely happened. She might be his “best bud” again, but he couldn’t resist the urge to tease her. He narrowed his gaze on her tauntingly. “You slept with him, didn’t you?”

She hadn’t meant to do this, but she couldn’t resist the urge to nail him. She looked at him with disbelief. “You mean you’re one of the few people who didn’t hear us?” He blinked at her with astonishment, and then she gave him a coy smile that may or may not have said she was joking. He frowned at that. She relented, then looked back towards Lot and his family. “I’m going to go see how he’s doing.” She got up and went to the back of the boat.

Quinn watched her go with a deepening frown. He really didn’t know what to make of this. Slowly, he rejoined Arturo and Rembrandt. He looked at Arturo, who was leaning against the mast and trying to sleep. He looked at Rembrandt, frowning hard at him to pry some sort of reaction from him.

Rembrandt shook his head. “Don’t look at me. I’m not Ann Landers.” He kept his smile hidden as he settled down to the floor of the boat and leaned against the side wall to get some sleep.

Quinn’s pout deepened. He looked back at Wade, who was adjusting the blanket tucked around Ani. How had this gotten turned on him, and so fast? He pondered this for a few moments, then yawned. He moved forward and sat on the boat’s floor, settling in against the side wall. He was asleep in less than a minute.

As the small boat crossed the bay, the following breeze picked up and sent the travelers fleetly to the eastern shore. The sky cleared, and the nearly full moon and canopy of stars blanketed the bay in a cool, bright light. As the others slept, Wade sat back by the tiller with Tolonna, and he let her steer for a while. After all the danger and emotional turmoil, the swift sureness of the boat and the calm of the waters and fresh salt tang of the breeze were invigorating. She looked back at Gomorrah. She could make out some lights, even from halfway across the water. She wondered about the slaves at the House of Abneer. Had they heeded her advice and run? ...And if so, how many had escaped, and how many had been caught and brought back in chains? If the place wasn’t going to be destroyed in the morning, they were going to be in for some desperate punishment because of her. She really needed to stop giving people advice so freely.

As they approached the eastern shore, Tolonna took over the tiller and directed the boat to a small dock Wade could just make out in the moonlight and the first glow of the dawn. She woke the others as Tolonna trimmed the sail, then she jumped onto the dock with the lead line and secured the boat. The sleepy crowd streamed off the small boat, and Rembrandt and Quinn lifted the stretcher gingerly to the dock and onto dry land. Wade checked Ani’s condition. He was still alive, but only just barely. It wouldn’t be long now. But at least he’d be dying at home.

“Where’s Talan?” Lot asked, looking around at nothing but grassland in the growing light.

“Up the hill. It’s not far.”

Rembrandt looked at Tolonna’s boat thoughtfully, then signaled Quinn to put the stretcher down. “We need to try to pull the boat up on shore.”

The others looked at him skeptically. “Why?” Tolonna asked.

“The tidal wave.”

As the others regarded him tiredly, he looked at the boat. It was too big for them to pull ashore, especially considering the bank was rather steep here. Oh, well. Maybe he could get another boat. “Never mind. Come on, we need to get away from the shore.”

Tolonna led the way to the crest of the hill, which was a quarter mile hike on a switchback trail and nearly two hundred feet above the water. When they reached the summit, an exhausted Quinn called for a break and they set their burden down on the ground. Quinn stretched out in the grass, and Rembrandt flopped down beside him. Rembrandt asked, “How much time, Professor?”

Arturo examined the timer. “Seven minutes.” He looked at the bright dawn, then across the way towards the distant cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. “Well, Mr. Brown, the sun will be up in about five minutes. I believe it is ‘put up or shut up time.’”

Rembrandt stretched tiredly, then got to his feet. “Okay, everyone. Listen up.” He pointed back over his shoulder across the bay. “There’s going to be some mass destruction going on over there in a few minutes. And absolutely, positively, under no circumstances, are you to look at it.” He eyed Lot and his family. “Do not look at it.” He zeroed in on Lot’s wife, pointing an authoritative finger at her. “Do _not_ look at it.”

She frowned at his finger. “Why not?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

She scoffed. “Dangerous to look? What could happen to me?”

He was tired, and he hoped this wouldn’t sound as stupid as he was afraid it would. “You get turned into a pillar of salt.” It had sounded just as stupid as he feared, and she laughed. “Listen, woman,” he said, wagging his finger at her again. “Do not look at it. Do you hear what I’m saying? If you look at it, I’m not responsible for what happens to you.” He punctuated his statement with as searing a look at the women as he could muster, then nodded and walked away. The girls gave their haughty mother dubious frowns.

Wade was kneeling by Ani, and Tolonna joined her. He said, “You did a good thing, bringing him home. I know he’d thank you if he could.”

She looked at Tolonna sincerely. “In spite of what happened, and what he went through, he was such an incredibly good person. I want you to remember that.” He nodded with appreciation.

Quinn stood to look across the bay at Gomorrah, wondering how it would begin...if it was going to begin. Rembrandt joined him. “Remmy, when are we going to know not to look?”

A familiar voice said, “Not look at what?”

Quinn turned as the two strangers who had rescued him from the jail appeared from over the top of the hill. They were dressed for travel, and the second man was carrying a walking staff.

Quinn’s face lit up with joy as the first man joined them. “You guys! I tried to thank you, but you took off so fast. You really saved me back there.”

The first man nodded with a smile. “We only told the truth.”

The second man knelt by the stretcher. “What’s the matter?”

Wade said quietly, “He’s been stabbed. There’s nothing we can do. He’s dying.”

The man put a hand on Ani’s shoulder, then nodded. “He’s almost gone.” He laid his walking stick on the ground next to the stretcher, then looked at Tolonna. “Are you his family?”

“Nearly.”

The man indicated Ani. “May I?” Tolonna nodded, and the man gently pulled the blanket off Ani. Blood had seeped through Molari’s bandages, and a dark brown stain of dried blood had solidified across Ani’s severed caftan, which had been refolded over the bandage. Wade couldn’t look at it. The man pulled the sliced halves of the caftan apart, then gingerly peeled back the bandage to look underneath. Wade couldn’t bear even to be near this and stood up and joined Rembrandt and Quinn. The second man looked at the wound and frowned thoughtfully. He looked at his friend, then Tolonna. “We might be in time.”

Wade didn’t look. She knew there was nothing to be done at this point. She regarded her friends, then went over to Arturo and studied the timer. Five minutes left. All she wanted at this point was to get the hell out of this place as fast as she possibly could. In spite of her resolve not to, she looked back at Ani, then the stranger who was doing something behind the bandage. She crossed her arms tightly across her stomach.

Quinn watched her for a few moments, then finally relented from his share of the weeks-long argument. He went to her and put a comforting arm around her. She leaned against his shoulder and sighed.

The first golden rays of the new day peeked over the hill, and everyone looked at Rembrandt. He took a deep breath. “Okay, everybody. Face that way,” he said, pointing east. The rest of the midnight travelers looked at each other, then, with great reluctance, turned their backs on the bay and the land beyond. Everyone, that is, except the first stranger, who continued to look at the cities across the way. “Don’t look,” Rembrandt said to him.

He gazed at the cities. “Why not?”

“It’s dangerous.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“They’re going to get destroyed.”

The man regarded the vista, then his eyes lit with acknowledgment. “You’re right.”

Rembrandt looked at him with alarm. “Don’t look! Don’t look!” he said in an urgent whisper.

The man continued to gaze across the bay in wonder. Without looking at Rembrandt, he said in a soft voice, “You cannot look....” He glanced at Rembrandt. “...But we can.”

Rembrandt stared at the man, then blinked a few times as the realization set in. “Oh, my God,” he said in a feeble voice.

The stranger smiled at him. “You did very well, Rembrandt. Very well.”

Rembrandt’s knees were beginning to shake. “Oh, my God.”

The stranger resumed his gaze at the cities. “It’s happening just the way you were shown in your dream. Terrible, terrible destruction. Terrible...necessary.” He looked at him again. “Tell Wade, when she’s ready, that she did a wonderful thing by giving Ani a chance to save himself. No one else would have. No one else ever did.”

Rembrandt nodded, then looked at the second stranger tending to Ani’s wound. “You two take good care of him, okay?”

The man nodded. “It’s the least we can do, after you did our work for us.” He beamed at Rembrandt, who shook his head.

“Oh man, oh man, I can’t believe this.”

The first man put a strong, steadying hand on Rembrandt’s shoulder. “Here it comes,” he said in a voice loud enough for the others to hear.

The ground tugged under their feet, then pulled back violently. The refugees from the doomed cities lost their footing as the earth strained and fought the forces that were wrenching it back and forth. A searing roar ripped through the air as a blast of wind rushed over them. Wade had fallen on her face and looked at Quinn and Arturo, who were on the ground on either side of her. They were as astonished as she was.

The ground heaved an uncountable number of times, then shuddered into an uncertain stillness. After a few moments, the Sliders got up and dusted themselves off. It was all they could do not to turn around and look across the bay. Wade turned to Ani, who laid seemingly undisturbed on the stretcher with his attendant still kneeling next to him. His companion stood above the two, watching his friend work. Arturo picked up the timer, which was none the worse for its drop to the ground. They had just under three minutes left.

The second man looked at Tolonna. “He’s going to be all right,” he reassured them. He looked at Wade and nodded with a smile.

She wasn’t sure she believed him, even though she wanted to. She looked at Ani’s silent form as the second man began to wrap the blanket around him, and just for a moment, as she saw his right wrist disappear under the cover, she would have sworn the tattoo around his wrist was gone. She blinked, then rubbed her eyes. She knew it had to be a trick of the light.

She went to Ani to say a final farewell. She thought his color did look better, but she was certain this had to be the golden sunlight fooling her. She thought of something, then reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out Abneer’s bulging money pouch. She gave it to the amazed Tolonna. “This is Ani’s. ...If he can’t spend it, I’m sure he’d want you to have it.”

The humble farmer held the money pouch with a moment of awe, then nodded sincerely to Wade. “I’ll keep it safe for him.”

As Tolonna struggled to hang the hefty pouch on his belt, Wade slipped the jeweled dagger out of her pocket and tucked it under Ani’s blanket.

The second stranger, who still knelt on the other side of the stretcher, saw her gesture and gave her a nodding smile.

Rembrandt also watched her, then he remembered the weapon he carried. He pulled out his disposable camera. He frowned at it, then tossed it on the ground. “I should’ve left it back there where it would’ve been destroyed.”

Arturo watched with concern. “What about your record of our slides?”

He shook his head. “There’s nothing in there I want to remember.”

Arturo nodded in agreement.

The first stranger picked up the tool that held so many terrible images. “We’ll take care of it for you, Rembrandt.” Rembrandt nodded with gratitude.

The first stranger looked at his companion. “It’s time to go.” He said to Tolonna, “We’ll carry him. You lead the way.” Tolonna nodded.

Wade lingered by Ani. “Goodbye,” she said softly, then kissed his forehead. She frowned. That was odd, he was warmer. She looked curiously at the second man.

He smiled at her. “He will live.” He looked up, thinking. “I see him...recovering completely, going to Salem to live with his mother, marrying someone who looks very much like you, and having five beautiful children.” He punctuated his prophecy with a bright smile to her.

She sighed skeptically. “I hope you’re right.” She gave Ani one last look, then stood.

Tolonna looked at Lot and his family. “You’re welcome to come with us and stay in our house. It’s humble, but we’ll try to make you comfortable.”

The Sliders looked at the family. All of this had been too much for them, and they were completely shell-shocked. Lot shook his head. “Thank you. Can you show us the way to Zoar? I have friends there.” He glanced at his wife, who still sat in a numb huddle with her daughters. He said in a hushed voice, “Although I’m worried everyone will know where we’re from. We may not be welcome.”

Tolonna nodded. “It’s not far beyond our village. I can take you there after we leave Ani with my family.” Lot gave him a low bow of gratitude.

The first man stopped by Rembrandt. “Safe journey. And watch your landing. There’ll be trees.”

Rembrandt nodded in thanks, then looked at him seriously. “Are we ever going to get home?”

The man regarded him, then nodded slightly. “Yes, Rembrandt. You will get home.”

Rembrandt fought to keep down his tears. “Thank you.”

The second man picked up his walking stick and offered it to Lot. The nephew of Abraham viewed it, sighed, and then gave the man a small nod of thanks but turned away to help his wife and daughters to their feet. The second man regarded Lot sadly. He glanced at his companion, who shared his sadness, and then tucked the walking stick alongside Ani on the stretcher.

The first man nodded his farewells to the others, then joined his companion in lifting the stretcher. Tolonna indicated the direction, and then he led the way as they went over the crest of the hill and disappeared.

The other Sliders gathered around Rembrandt, who was overcome by the stranger’s words. They looked at him with curious smiles, but he gathered himself and shook his head as a reassurance that he was all right. Arturo patted him on the back. “Well, Mr. Brown, I must say I’m duly impressed. The next time I find myself reenacting a chapter or two from the Bible, you’ll be the first one I consult.”

Wade said, “I just hope it’s a nicer chapter next time.”

Quinn said, “I hope there isn’t a next time.” They chuckled at that.

Arturo turned to the family. Rembrandt watched to see what he was going to say, but he behaved himself: “I would like to thank you again for the hospitality of your home, and I must say that all of you, and everything that has happened in your company, I most assuredly will never forget.” He punctuated his statement by hitting the button on the timer.

The family fell back in terror as the Sliders contemplated their exit. “All right, people,” Rembrandt said. “Watch yourself on the landing. We got trees.”

Quinn frowned at him skeptically. “Trees?”

“Trees,” he repeated firmly. “So, go for a soft landing and try to land on the Professor.”

Giddy from their ordeal and lack of sleep, Arturo gave him a grand harrumph as the others laughed. He held out his arm for them to go first, but the three responded as one with a similar gesture in return, then laughed. Arturo scowled at them too deeply to be taken seriously, then tucked the timer into his jacket pocket and leapt into the vortex. Quinn waited a moment, then nodded to the family and jumped in after him.

Wade was about to launch herself when she thought of something. She looked at Rembrandt, puzzled. “Wait a minute. How did that man know Ani’s mother lives in Salem? And how did the other one know your name?”

He smiled at her. “I’ll explain later. Go on. Last one on the Professor’s a rotten egg.” She chuckled, then threw herself into the gateway.

Rembrandt looked at the family, then eyed Lot’s wife severely. “ _Don’t look_. I mean it.” He pointed his finger at her one last time, then took a deep breath and jumped into the vortex.

The family stared at the ring of swirling energy, then recoiled when it suddenly disappeared into itself. They stood on the silent hillside for a few moments, then Lot looked over the crest of the hill towards the new day. “Let’s go.” He trudged wearily over the crest in the direction Tolonna and the strangers had headed.

The daughters looked at each other, then their mother. There was nothing here for them. With great sighs of self-pity, they followed their father.

Their mother watched them go. She didn’t know how exactly, but she knew all of this was her husband’s fault. How was she expected to start life over again in this wilderness, with only the clothes on her back? If only she could have brought something. A pot, perhaps. Not that she could cook. But at least it would have been something. Everything gone, everything lost. Her beautiful clothes, jewels, linens, all lost. ...Or was it? Their house had survived—sort of—the first earthquake. Maybe it had survived this one.

She turned to look across the water. Her mouth fell open with surprise. From one end to the other, the towns she had known all her life were a raging inferno beneath billows of ugly black smoke that darkened the sky. Nothing was left. Nothing. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

And then the world went white.

***


End file.
